Piece By Piece
by LeighKelly
Summary: When pediatric surgeon Santana Lopez meets Dr. Brittany Pierce, head of plastic surgery, in the elevator during a blackout at the hospital, she's immediately hit with a sense of disdain. Little does she know that she'll be the first person to show her what love looks like, and change her life for good.
1. Chapter 1

Santana Lopez had a fear of confined spaces. Actually, she found it hard to believe that there were people who _didn't._ Unfortunately, working on the seventh floor of Columbia Presbyterian either meant she climbed up and down stairs all day, or she got over it and rode in the metal deathbox.

The overwhelming heat should have been a warning. According to Kurt, her best friend through her internship and residency, and now, her ride or die, the emergency room was a mess. Like always, during a heatwave, she expected to see in influx into Peds, and she figured to prepare herself for hour fourteen of her shift, she should go down to Starbucks and get a _real_ cup of coffee, not the watery crap someone brewed on her floor.

Of course, on her way down, the elevator makes every stop. On five, the two residents that she's fairly certain are sleeping together get out, and she's alone. Part of her hates that, and part of her loves it. More air to breathe if she gets trapped in there. Then she gets to four. A blonde Santana has never seen before steps inside. Underneath her perfectly pressed white jacket, she wears heels and a pencil skirt. Santana, who'd just been in surgery for three hours, looks disheveled beside her, in scrub pants and a high pony tail. Curiously, Santana eyes this woman, trying to figure out what department she's in, and why this is the first she's ever seen of her. Then, the lights go out, and the elevator stops, somewhere just between four and three.

"What the _fuck?_ " She barks, though her chest is already screaming for the air she's afraid she won't have, and her throat feels tight.

"Looks like the power went out." The blonde pulls out her cellphone, and Santana just rolls her eyes, because _obviously._ "I'll call someone."

Santana resists the urge to drop down on the floor and rock herself, while her companion chirps into the phone. She can barely even make out what she's saying over the rush of adrenaline in her ears, and she wonders how much this stranger would hate her if she threw up all over the floor. Probably a lot. If the roles were reversed, Santana knows that _she_ definitely would.

"Well." The woman shoves the phone back into her pocket, and Santana tries to make her features out in the dim emergency lights. "Apparently the power is out all over Manhattan. Looks like we'll be trapped for awhile…"

"What?" Santana shrieks. "Don't we have generators here?"

"Um, yeah, which they usually use to power the ventilators and essential equipment. I'm pretty sure two doctors stuck in an elevator ranks low on their priority list."

"Did you even _try?_ " She snaps. "I'm calling my department head."

Santana's luck on the phone is the same as the other woman's. While she attempts to plead her case Shelby, she rolls her eyes at the blonde, who sits down on the floor, balls up her perfectly pressed jacket, and sticks it between her head and the elevator wall. Maybe _she's_ fine with dying in the metal deathbox, but Santana certainly is _not._

"How'd that go for you?" Santana senses the sarcasm in the woman's voice, and for the first time in her life, she regrets the company of a gorgeous woman.

"Dr. Corcoran is going to do whatever she can to get us out of here."

"Dr. Corcoran, huh?" Blondie arches an eyebrow. "So Peds? You don't really strike me as the pediatrician type."

"In the whole _fifteen_ minutes you've spent with me? You want a touch-feely doctor, don't like at Peds, you look at dermatology. Peds surgeons are the ones who'll kick your goddamn ass if you mess with their patients. What's this, your first day here?"

"Third, actually." Santana caves to sitting down, despite her assumption that the air is probably better standing up.

"So you're a resident then?"

"Ha." The woman laughs bitterly. "Ha. Ha. No, I just transferred from Brigham and Women's. Brittany Pierce, Plastics."

"Oh, so you're a Plastics rat." Santana bites her tongue. " _Dr. Pierce._ "

"Excuse me?" Before Santana gets a chance to cover it up, just to be spiteful, Dr. Pierce spots the name emblazoned on her coat. "Dr. Lopez."

"You heard me. Congratulations on taking your medical oath and pissing on it. _First do no harm,_ as long as it's rich white ladies who need tummy tucks and take away resources from dying kids."

"Wow. _Wow._ " She huffs, shaking her head. "You have _no_ idea what Plastics is, do you?"

"Oh, I have every idea. But obviously your only defense of your shitty department is to question my intelligence."

"No, my department _needs_ no defense. Please, get over yourself."

Santana doesn't respond. She turns away from the other woman. As if being trapped in the metal deathbox wasn't bad enough, she was trapped with a sham doctor, who perpetuates the idea that women aren't good enough as they are. And she would know. After all, she was _sixteen_ when she had her boobs done, and she was _far_ younger when she first believed that she needed to change herself to be beautiful. Fifteen years, a leaking implant, and a reduction later, she _still_ resents the doctor that convinced her it was an acceptable idea. Her own _father,_ a cardiologist, with a friend who was more than happy to do it for her.

She doesn't talk to Dr. Pierce for the next two hours. Sure, she steals glances at her face, illuminated by the glow of the cellphone she taps away furiously on, but there's really no room for conversation. Instead, Santana thinks of her kids up on the seventh floor. She thinks of Cindy, with a tumor in her chest that three surgeries haven't fully removed. She thinks of Brandon, healing from a gunshot wound to his thigh, and the pieces of metal that are working their way out from under his skin. She thinks of Maria and Lucia, the conjoined twins scheduled for fifteen hours of surgery to separate them. She thinks of them, and she doesn't give one single fuck about whether Dr. Pierce thinks she's holier than thou.

When the lights come on again, _finally,_ Santana Lopez takes the first big gulp of air in hours. She'd been taking it in with small breaths, savoring it, making sure that she'd survive if the air got used up. But with the sound of the gears turning in the elevator, she knows her feet will be back on solid ground soon. She knows that she survived the metal deathbox, even with the glares—and probably big, selfish breaths of air from Dr. Pierce. She knows that she's okay.

When the doors finally open on the third floor, Santana Lopez bolts through them. She'll take he stairs the rest of the way. She'll take the stairs for the rest of the day, maybe for the rest of her _life._

"Have a nice day, Dr. Lopez." She hears from behind her. She can't distinguish whether there's sarcasm in Dr. Pierce's voice or not, and frankly, she doesn't give a damn.

"Yeah. You too." She replies half-heartedly, not turning her head back, and she walks as fast as she can away from it all.


	2. Chapter 2

Santana has been waiting. Ever since Dr. Holiday brought Bruna and Fernando Martinez first came into her exam room, Bruna heavily pregnant, she's been waiting. She was in the operating room when Holly did the c-section, delivering Maria and Lucia Martinez. She'd watched with awe, as the twins were carefully lifted from their mother's womb, joined at the abdomen, one liver between them. She'd examined them first, and then she and Shelby worked together on a plan for a separation procedure.

Santana has been waiting, and slowly, a team of the best surgeons has come together to give these girls the best possible chance of survival. Santana is excited for their first meeting, to say the least, and after checking on them, at nearly seventeen weeks old, in their little isolette, she heads down the hall to Shelby's conference room, excited for the meeting she's been waiting months for.

She walks in, and she looks around at the faces at the table. She'd taken on the coordination a general surgeon, a cardiologist, and an anesthesiologist. Kurt Hummel, Mercedes Jones, and Tina Cohen-Chang, respectively, the very best of the best. Shelby, as the department head, handled the rest, and as her eyes scan past he group of young surgeons, her stomach drops as they settle on Dr. Brittany Pierce.

Keeping her cool, she goes down the line, shaking the hand of each surgeon and nurse on the team, thanking them, on behalf of both herself and the Martinez family for being part of her team. When she gets to Dr. Pierce, she swallows her pride, and she reaches out to take her hand. Unfortunately, her own nerves compromise her coordination, and before she can do anything to stop it, a hot cup of coffee spills straight into her lap, and all over another of those pencil skirts she seems to enjoy wearing.

"I'm sorry." Santana sputters. "I swear, it was an accident."

"Yeah. Cool. It's fine." Dr. Pierce stands up, quickly, letting the coffee run down to the floor, and she grabs as many napkins as she can. Nothing in her voice indicates that it actually _is_ cool or fine though, and Santana shivers.  
After Dr. Pierce excuses herself to change, and returns, the meeting is nothing, if not awkward. Of _course_ they'll need someone to handle skin grafting, and all of that, but that doesn't dull Santana's caustic attitude toward the plastic surgeon. She's inherently rubbed the wrong way, and she just can't help but bite back, every time he woman interjects Santana's surgical plan with her own agenda.

"Dr. Lopez." Shelby corners Santana, once the meeting his through. "My office, please."

Shelby never calls Santana _Dr. Lopez_ anymore. They've known each other for over a decade, since Santana was an intern. Dr. Shelby Corcoran is the reason Santana is even in pediatrics to begin with. She'd always pictured herself in neuro, or cardio, or even ortho, but because of Shelby, she's here, and she loves it. So hearing her say _Dr. Lopez_ , after all this time? That's strange.  
"Is there some sort of problem between you and Dr. Pierce, Santana?" Shelby asks, once Santana is seated at her desk.

"Dr. Pierce? A problem. No." Santana shakes her head. "It's not a personal thing. She's just new here, and I think we owe it to the Martinez girls to make sure who we have on their case is the _best._ "

"Which is why I chose the head of the department."

"The…head of the department? I thought she was from Boston."

"And she transferred here for the job." Shelby continues to eye her skeptically. "I know you're interested in the well being of the patients, and so am I. But if I wanted drama on this case, I'd have assigned it to a resident. I've known you a long time, Santana. Whatever this issue you have with her is, drop it, or drop the case."

Shaken, Santana leaves Shelby's office. Something about Dr. Pierce really got under her skin that day in the elevator, even Ibeyond/I her being a plastics rat, but she absolutely refuses to lose this case or embarrass her in front of her boss.

She gets through their next two meetings. Mostly, she just avoids even looking at Dr. Pierce. She knows that Shelby has an eye on her, and she feels like she did her second year as an intern. She needs to stop. She needs to get her head in the game. This is too important, and she won't let someone she hardly knows ruin the surgery that could make her entire career.

The day before the surgery, Santana sleeps for twenty-two hours. She's eternally grateful for the blackout shades in her apartment, and for the bottle of melatonin beside her bed. She needs to make sure she's entirely rested, she needs to make sure she's on her game like never before. She's practiced in the lab since the twins were born, and now, sleep is all that can prepare her.  
In the morning, Santana meets with Bruna and Fernando in the NICU. Though she doesn't typically partake in religious rituals, she takes the hand of the mother of these babies, as their father says the final prayers of a novena over their sleeping body. She finds herself praying too. For strength. For success. For the well being of this whole family she's come to know.

She's pumped when she gets into the operating room. She can't believe that if all goes well, Lucia and Maria will finally be separate from each other. Lucia won't have to worry about her sister, the stronger twin, taking the lion's share of the nutrients. They'll be able to grow and run and play. It's humbling, in a strange sort of way. Even though sometimes it feels like playing God, Santana also feels like her ultimate success is _dependen_ t on a higher power. Maybe it's the novena that's got her like this. She doesn't know.

Mostly, she works with Kurt on the liver. He has steady hands and a strong record, but she's more accustomed to working on tiny body parts. She can't pay much attention to what everyone else does. She has to worry about her own work, but one look at Holly tells her everything is going well.

By the time there finished, she's exhausted. Regular surgery is exhausting, but one like this, it's almost surreal. Seventeen hours have passed, but on the operating table, Lucia and Maria lay, very much alive, very much stable. She'd have worked for seventeen _days_ , if she knew that would be the outcome, and when she leaves to find their parents, she can't describe the elation that courses through her. This is the proudest day of her career, her _life_ probably, and though she briefly considers joining some of the other doctors at the bar for a drink, she opts, instead, for a shower and a bed.

In eight hours, she has to be back in the hospital. Once she grabs her bag from her office, she considers sleeping in an on call room, instead of going home. It would give her an extra forty minutes, at least. She could shower there, sleep, and then wake up and brush her teeth and just go right back to work. It seems like a great plan, until she opens the door, and sitting on the bed, is Dr. Pierce, with a small sleeping boy cradled in her arms.

"Oh, I—" Santana stammers, and Dr. Pierce looks up, startled. "I'm sorry, I—"  
"Did you need something, Dr. Lopez?"

"No, I, um…" She catches a glimpse of the side of the boy's face, and her words stick inside of her throat at what she sees. "I just wanted to thank you, for today."

"You're welcome." Dr. Pierce nods slowly. "Goodnight."


	3. Chapter 3

Santana doesn't see Dr. Pierce for two weeks. After running into her in the on call room, the night of the twins' surgery, she can't stop thinking about what she saw. She hates that. She hates that she constantly becomes obsessed with something, and she can't push it out of her mind. It makes her an excellent doctor, but kind of a lunatic as a human.

She notices Dr. Pierce's notes in Maria and Lucia's chart—she studies those charts to no end, the road to recovery is long, and she doesn't want to miss a single thing—so, she knows she's doing her job and keeping up with the maintenance on their skin grafts. But she's elusive. She doesn't run into her in the elevator, at the Starbucks downstairs, at the bar across the street, or even in the nursery. Perhaps Dr. Pierce is actively avoiding her, or maybe, just maybe, she hasn't given Santana Lopez a second thought.

It's at the start of an overnight shift, when it happens. As she always does, Santana begins her rounds in the NICU, checking, always first, on the Martinez girls. She stops in her tracks, when she sees that crisp white lab coat, and the long tail of blonde leaning over one of the babies. She's not in one of her pencil skirts, but in scrubs, like she quite possibly just came out of surgery. Or maybe Dr. Brittany Pierce, Harvard grad, and double board certified in plastic and reconstructive surgery from Brigham and Women's—Santana possibly checked her credentials—actually lets her hair down once in awhile, and changes into something less constrictive after a long shift. Refusing to be caught scurrying away, if Dr. Pierce turns around, Santana instead approaches where she examines Maria. She has a frown on her face, and she prods gently at a patch of the graft on her stomach, eliciting a yelp from the tiny child.

"It looks like she's developing an infection." Dr. Pierce speaks softly, though she doesn't look up. Santana jumps a bit at the sound of her voice, but she recovers quickly.

"What can we do?"

"She's not rejecting it yet. But I'll meet with her nurses. It needs to be kept dry, her diaper can't be up this high."

Santana nods. She's not sure what to say. After all, she's not the one who changes her. She's not the one who didn't listen to the original care order. It makes her nervous though. This all can't go wrong because of a skin graft. The organs, that's what she'd been worried about, and internally both girls have far surpassed her expectations. So what can she say? It's become abundantly clear that Dr. Pierce knows a thing or two about grafts, so Santana is awkwardly silent.

"Ask me." Dr. Pierce murmurs, putting Maria back in the incubator, where her sister immediately grabs her hand. Santana wonders if they feel the loss, being separated. It's one of those things that keeps her up at night…or, day, as her schedule brings. She wonders what it feels like, to be half of a whole, and then, suddenly, all on your own.

"What?" Santana plays dumb, and adjusts her bra, rubbing her in very much the wrong way, but…

"I know you want to. So ask."

"That was your son?"

"Legally? Emotionally? Yes." She nods.

The way she phrases it makes Santana's head spin a little, and she can't help but cast her eyes down to Dr. Pierce's left hand. She's not wearing a ring, but that's not all that uncommon in their field. _What does it matter?_ she chastises herself, _you can't stand the woman._

"I know that's not the question you want to ask though." Her voice is monotone, as if she's done this a thousand times, and suddenly, Santana feels bad for even wondering.

"It's not my business."

"That doesn't mean you don't want to know."

"You're right, it doesn't. But I wouldn't ask you."

There's silence between them, after Dr. Pierce gives a bitter sort of snort. She takes out Lucia, and begins examining her. Her hand still reaches toward where her sister is, and it makes Santana's heart sad. She's not usually emotional like this, but for some reason—or, most likely, for the reason that causes the red circle on her calendar—she's particularly emotional tonight. Dr. Pierce murmurs down to the baby, and Santana feels as if she's intruding on something.

"Two years ago, there was a fire. He was ten months old." Dr. Pierce breathes, and it takes Santana several seconds to process what she's talking about. "My sister threw him out the window."

Santana gasps, and though she hopes its not audible, Dr. Pierce looks up from the baby before her, and nods slowly.

"He was the lucky one."

"Your sister…"

"Was his mother. She saved his life by getting him out of that building, and she and her husband both died in there. I'd heard about the fire from the hospital that night, but I didn't get the details. Liam came into the ER, they called me down as a surgery consult. He was the first patient I saw that night. He was so badly burned that I had no idea who he was. Sixty-five percent of his body. Sixty-five percent of an infant's body, and nineteen broken bones."

"You don't have do this. Please don't do this."

"Don't I though? You think plastics is all tummy tucks and boob jobs. Even when you see it with your own two eyes, you don't realize how much more we are than that. How those _rich white ladies,_ as you put it, bring in the revenue to pay for surgeries for kids who _don't_ have aunts with the money in their bank to cover it, and the skills to do it themselves. I don't owe it to _you_ to explain that, but I owe it to Liam, I owe it to Maria and Lucia, I owe it to _so many people."_

"I'm—"

"I don't want your apologies, Dr. Lopez. I don't want your platitudes. I'm not the one who deserves them. I know that _you_ save lives, and I respect you for that. What I _do_ want, is for you to give me that same courtesy." Dr. Pierce shakes her head, and steps back from Lucia. "Your patient."


	4. Chapter 4

Santana can't stop thinking about her last encounter with Dr. Pierce. She can't stop thinking about the face of that little boy. And yet, she finds it difficult to let her bias against Dr. Pierce's field go. Maybe she's a good doctor—maybe there's not a maybe, Santana has seen _that_ with her own two eyes—but that doesn't forgive the _bad_ doctors out there.

They don't see each other. She considered paying Kurt to check the twins' charts, so she knows when Dr. Pierce has already made her rounds, but as it turns out, she didn't have to. This time, she's certain the other woman is avoiding her, and honestly, she's grateful for it. She can't wait for the Maria and Lucia to be released. Mostly, because that means they're out of the woods, and are free to live their lives, but also, because it means she won't have anything to share with the woman who gets so deeply under her skin.

She needs a break. The Martinez case has really worn her out, on top of the thirteen other surgeries she's done in a week. Shelby sees it too, and she tells Santana to take a few days to rest and recoup. She hasn't taken a vacation in far too long, and her two residents, Rose and Adams, can handle her caseload.

For the first two days she's off, Santana doesn't leave her apartment. She orders takeout, she drinks all the beer in her fridge, and she watches everything on her DVR. It feels so good, and she doesn't even care how lame that makes her. It's all she wants to do.

On the third day, Santana finally decides to go outside. She barely bothers to get dressed, instead, she pulls a sweatshirt over her sports bra, and zips her coat. A walk through Central Park seems like it'll redeem her two days inside, maybe, so she cuts in at the entrance on 110th, and just meanders around. It's chillier than she'd expected, and after a half hour, she's just about to turn around and go home. Then, out of nowhere, a ball hits her leg, and she scoffs.

"Careful, baby, not on the path."

The voice jars Santana, and she briefly considers running away. What _is_ it about Dr. Pierce that ignites this flight mechanism in her? And why, of all places, did she have to run into her in Central Park, forty blocks from the hospital? Slowly, she turns her head in the direction of the ball, and she gets a full look at the little boy, sandy hair kept long around his full face. Even as a doctor, the extent of his injuries shock her, but she curls her lips into a smile, and she waves to him.

"Dr. Lopez." Dr. Pierce scoops the boy up in her arms protectively and he nuzzles into her shoulder.

"Dr. Pierce."

"Who's'at, mama?" He whispers loudly into her neck, and Dr. Pierce leans down to pick up his ball by Santana's foot.

"Dr. Lopez, from the hospital, Li. Remember the babies I told you about? The ones who were born hugging each other?"

"Mmhm. 'N you fixeded 'em so they c'n hug e'vrybonny. Them her babies?"

"Not quite." The soft smile she gives him surprises Santana. The Dr. Pierce she sees at work is tough and serious, so this is quite the turn. Of _course_ she wouldn't be like that with her kid, Santana chastises herself, but… "She was the boss doctor for that."

"Wow." He breathes, then peeks one eyes at Santana, before burying his face back into Dr. Pierce's neck.

"Well, I should…" Santana trails off.

"Yeah. That would be good."

It drives Santana crazy, how she can't stop thinking about Dr. Pierce. She thought her time off would help, but running into her in the park just set her back. She can't remember _ever_ fixating on a woman this much. She wishes that this were someone she was romantically interested in, not someone who just makes her feel anger and a strange sort guilt. Then again, she doesn't. She's made a very big point _not_ to pull a _Grey's Anatomy_ and sleep with someone at work. And that's not simply because that would involve sleeping with someone at _all,_ a feat for her in and of itself these days.

It eats at her for two days after she goes back to work. She keeps half-expecting to run into Dr. Pierce in the NICU, but it doesn't happen. She even half-expects that she'll see her going into the day care—it is on her floor, after all—but that doesn't happen either. She's never there in person, but somehow, she's always creeping through her mind. Because of that, it comes as the most unexpected surprise, when late that second afternoon, there's a knock at her office door.

"I think we need to talk."


	5. Chapter 5

At the sound of Dr. Pierce's voice, Santana's head snaps up. She stands ramrod straight on the doorway, wearing her usual pressed lab coat and skirt ensemble. There's a tone of urgency in her voice, and yet, not a hair is out of place. It's a demeanor that Santana has yet to master, in spite of years of practicing a poker face when speaking to the families of her patients. She always seems like look flustered, and she wonders if that's just par for the course, when your career path involves too often telling parents that you can't save their children.

"About Maria Martinez." Dr. Pierce continues, and though Santana should have known immediately, for _some_ reason, she thought they'd be having a different type of conversation.

"Right. Of course." Santana mumbles, closing the file she was reading.

"Her body is rejecting the graft. I need to redo it."

" _What?"_ Santana stood up, kicking her desk chair back. "I though you know on a skin graft after thirty-six hours. It's been nineteen days."

"I'm sorry my graft didn't follow your textbook." Dr. Pierce rolls her eyes. "I know what a transplant rejection looks like. I've done it once or twice."

"So what, you need to do another surgery? You want me to tell her parents that their seventeen week old has to have a surgery to fix a mistake made in the first one."

"Let's get one thing straight, Dr. Lopez. There was no mistake. Bodies reject foreign objects. If you gave her a liver transplant and it failed, you wouldn't be blaming Dr. Hummel. So unless you want to go to her parents next month, and tell them their daughter is dying of an infection, and then face the malpractice lawsuits that follow, I'd suggest we follow my course of action."

"Show me, and show me how you're going to fix my patient."

" _Our_ patient." Brittany corrects, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "And as I need peds in the OR with me, I need you to clear your schedule tomorrow morning."

Santana is pissed. She's pissed at Dr. Pierce, and that cool demeanor of hers. She's pissed at her shitty skin graft. She's pissed at the universe for every kid that has to suffer through repeated surgical procedures. She's just pissed, and she wishes that she could really lash out the way that she used to.

Dr. Pierce shows Santana the signs of rejection in Maria Martinez's small body. Santana should have seen them herself, she knows, but she was sort of focused on avoiding the other ten-thousand compilations both Maria and Lucia could have, following their separation surgery. Dr. Pierce was in charge of the grafts, after all, and she caught the problem, so no harm, no foul.

Santana calls Bruna and Fernando to come into her office. Dr. Pierce is there, and Santana thinks that she's now spent enough time with her for a lifetime. She can't remember why she'd spent so much time thinking about her. The woman drives her nuts, absolutely mad, to the point where she feels like she's going to tear her hair out, or punch a wall.

She doesn't sleep. She doesn't even bother to try. Instead, she lays in a bed in an on call room, reading article after article about children and grafting. If she's going to be in the OR for this, she'll damn well know her stuff. She won't let Dr. Pierce correct her, or reprimand her for her lack of knowledge. Number three plastic surgeon in the country be damned. That's a low bar Dr. Pierce had to reach.

"Good morning, Dr. Lopez." Dr. Pierce nods at the scrub sink. Even in blue surgical scrubs, she still looks neat. Santana thinks it's possible that she irons her scrub caps. She probably has neat handwriting. Fucking plastics.

"Dr. Pierce." She murmurs in reply.

Operating with Dr. Pierce is unlike working with anyone else. It was different, in a room full of doctors, but now, it's just the two of them, a scrub nurse, and some anesthesiologist that Santana has never met. Dr. Pierce's operating room, her calls. That includes the music, and in the entire time Santana Lopez has been a surgeon, she's certain she's never operated to a mix of Britney Spears and Ke$ha. Seems like an odd mix, especially for someone like Dr. Pierce. She'd have assumed she'd listen to something more…professional. Beethoven maybe. But not _that._

"You're left-handed." She notes, about an hour in. The first words spoken between them since they began.

"Yeah, so?"

"Just making conversation." Dr. Pierce shakes her head, then immediately goes back to her work. "I'll refrain in the future."

It's a sore spot with her, her handedness. A sore spot resulting from her struggle to mostly teach _herself_ to work with wrong handed surgical tools, from having to learn to mirror, rather than copy with every procedure she'd been taught. It's not Dr. Pierce's fault, but still, she hates when attention is drawn to it. She hates when attention is drawn to a lot of things.

"It could be worse." Another forty-five minutes pass before Santana speaks.

"What could be?" Dr. Pierce glances up from the tiny, impossibly straight sutures that she works on.

"Maria. It could have been her liver, or her one kidney, that was being rejected."

"You seem to underestimate the importance of skin."

"I'm not looking to pick a fight with you." Santana scoffs.

"Aren't you always though? Since I met you, you seem unwilling to have a discussion that doesn't turn into an argument. Not an _hour_ ago, you snapped at me because I said you were left handed. I'm almost forty years old, I don't get involved in hospital drama. You don't like me, fine. You think plastics sucks, fine. You'll be done with me and this case soon enough. All I want to do is take care of my patients, and get home to my son. I don't need anyone preventing that."

Flustered, Santana works through the rest of the surgery in silence. Dr. Pierce doesn't even look at her, as she pulls off her scrub cap and they go together to talk to the parents. She doesn't even look at her, as they part ways again, Dr. Pierce toward her office, and Santana, toward the showers.

She's tired to the her bones, and she aches everywhere. She shouldn't feel like this, she's done procedures on her own, far longer than this six hour one she'd just _assisted._ But the long, sleepless night before hits her unexpectedly. Santana doesn't even wait until she's completely through the door before she pulls her bra through the sleeve of her scrub top. She needs to release herself from the construction, and when she finally steps into the shower, she leans her head back against the wall, sighing as the water hits her where she's so always tender, sighing, because it has already been a long fucking day.


	6. Chapter 6

Santana hooks up with someone. And not just hooks up. No, she hooks up in the bathroom in the bar, while her friends are doing shots. She thinks she needs to go see Elliot in neuro to have her head checked. Kurt tells her it's stress, and a _lot_ of alcohol. Mercedes tells her it's about time she lived a little. Mostly, Santana just feels like shit. She doesn't even know what the girl's name was. All she knows is that she was blonde, and she was _really,_ creepily into the fact that Santana was a doctor.

As usual, she throws herself into work. Santana Lopez has long ago decided that her career will be the most meaningful part of her life. It'll be her job, her spouse, and her child, all wrapped into one. She loves what she does, she loves this hospital, and that's more than she can say for nearly any human being in the world.

Lucia goes home. Santana stays up at night, thinking about that. Where she'd once wondered what the girls felt like, no longer being attached to one another, now she wonders what they feel like when they're ten miles apart. She just wants to get Maria out of the hospital. She was the stronger twin, and now, not so much.

The day finally comes two weeks later. It's been seven weeks since the surgery. Santana is elated, and she goes around the hospital, getting the other surgeons to sign off. She goes to Dr. Pierce's office four times. Every time, she's not there, and Santana gets increasingly frustrated. It's written in her chart that the grafts are healed, but she needs that signature.

It's after nine, when she finally finds her. The door to her office is open, and when Santana approaches, she sees her there. She's wearing a Harvard sweatshirt, with her hair in a long braid that coils on the dark leather of her desk. Dark rimmed glasses are perched on her nose, and she doesn't look up from the papers spread out in front of her. It strikes Santana, what a beautiful woman Dr. Pierce is, but she rolls her eyes and pushes that thought away, before she knocks on the door frame.

"Dr. P—" Santana is cut short by a finger to Dr. Pierce's lips, and a head tilt over to the sofa.

Her son is there. He's curled up beneath a peach blanket, a bunny tucked beneath his chin, and his fingers in his mouth. The floor beside him is littered with crayons and toy trains, and it strikes Santana, how out of place those things look in Dr. Pierce's crisp, modern office.

"Is there something you needed?" Dr. Pierce asks, her voice low, as she takes off her glasses and folds them up on her desk.

"I'm trying to discharge Maria Martinez in the morning. I've been looking for you all day."

"I took the day off. I just stopped by to look at some urgent cases." Santana notes how her eyes shift over to the boy, but she doesn't elaborate. She doesn't _owe_ Santana an elaboration. "I'll give Maria a final once-over when I come in at eleven tomorrow."

"I told Bruna and Fernando I'd discharge her early. Lucia has physical therapy, and—"

"Please keep your voice down, Dr. Lopez." Dr. Pierce pinches the bridge of her nose. "What would you like me to do? Wake up Liam and drop him off at daycare so I can go examine her now?"

"No. I just—" Santana stammers. She doesn't know _what_ she's asking. She just wants this patient discharged. She just wants to stop thinking about Dr. Pierce. "I don't have the right to ask you for a favor."

"You're right, you don't."

"Don't do it for me. Look, I'll sit here with your kid." Santana pleads, and Dr. Pierce raises an eyebrow. "He's sleeping. I'm a pediatric surgeon. I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

"It's not about your competence as a physician, Dr. Lopez. _I've_ never questioned that." There's a pregnant pause, and Dr. Pierce doesn't take her eyes off of Santana. "But I've been in the Martinez's position."

"So you'll go?"

"I'll go." She scrawls a number on a piece of paper, and hands it to Santana. "Call me immediately if he needs me."

Santana hands the chart to Dr. Pierce, and takes the slip from her hands, sticking it in the pocket of her scrubs. She watches her leave the room, intrigued by how different she looks in worn jeans and a sweatshirt. A different person entirely. While she waits, Santana sits in the high backed chair in front of Dr. Piece's desk with her phone, and she steals occasional glances at the sleeping child. She can't help but wonder how much medical care he needed. She can't help but wonder if Dr. Pierce did it all herself, or if operating on her own family was too much to bear. She wonders if he got cards from around the world, like that little girl did, a year or so ago. She wonders, though she _shouldn't._ Dr. Pierce and her child are none of her business. In just a little while longer, they'll be out of her life.

The bang from a janitorial cart in the hall jars Santana from her thoughts, and she mutters a _God fucking dammit_ under her breath. The boy begins to stir, and alarm bells go off in Santana's head. She's afraid he'll start screaming. She's afraid he'll run from her. And selfishly, she's afraid she'll have to call Dr. Pierce away from Maria Martinez, all because someone had to bang a trashcan against a metal cart.

Instead though, the boy sits up. He stares at Santana for several minutes, fingers still in his mouth. He's about three, she figures, based on what Dr. Pierce had told her that day in the NICU, but he's quieter than any three year old Santana Lopez has ever seen. Considering she's seen her share, that's saying something.

"Where's mama?" He finally asks, taking his fingers out of his mouth, but not his eyes off of her.

"She, uh, went to check on a baby."

"Huggin' baby?"

"Huh?" Santana's forehead crinkles, and then she remembers, from the afternoon in the park. "Oh. Uh, yeah, the hugging baby."

"O-key." He nods, sliding off the sofa and onto the floor. "Play with me?"

"I think you're supposed to be sleeping."

"Play with me?" He repeats, and as Santana doesn't want to chance the tenuous peace in the room, she complies, sitting beside him, with her legs crossed beneath her.

"Teach me how to play?"

"You be this train, I be this one, doccer…"

"Lopez. Dr. Lopez. Or just Santana."

"O-key. doccer Santana." He presses a green train into Santana's open palm with his left hand, and she notices how his right arm remains slack at his side. "Now you say _shoe shoe._ "

Before Santana has the opportunity, she's interrupted by the clearing of a throat behind her. She doesn't have to turn her head to know that it's Dr. Pierce, and heat creeps up her the back of her neck.

"Mama! Mama! Mama! Doccer Santana's bein' Percy!"

"And I thought Sir Topham Hatt put all his useful engines to bed."

"No Mama! _You_ putted them to bed!" He giggles, and his whole body shakes as he does. Santana can't help but smile at him, before she quickly stands up and dusts off her scrub pants.

"I guess I did." Dr. Pierce smiles at him. "But how about we pack them up and take them to their _real_ bed, hmm?"

"But Doccer Santana's playing w'me."

"It's past her bedtime, Li, and yours too. It's time to say goodnight."

"O-key." He slumps a little, and Santana gives him a small wave. "G'night."

"Goodnight, little engine." She turns away from him, and back to Dr. Pierce, who hands her Maria's signed chart.

"She's free to go."

"Thank you, Dr. Pierce. I appreciate that."

"Just doing my job." She turns away from Santana, and gets on her knees in front of the boy, kissing his head as he yawns. "I'm tired too, sweet boy, let's go home."


	7. Chapter 7

Like every year, April brings a new crop of interns. Santana usually doesn't mind them. She likes that they're eager to learn, even though they mostly fumble at the beginning. This year, it's different though. This year, they seem to be worse than ever.

Noah Puckerman makes her crazy. In her entire career, she's never considered throwing someone off her service. But him, she cringes every time she gets stuck with him. He's Dr. Rose's intern, that means she has to see his smug face and his mohawked head more than usual.

Puckerman wants to be a plastic surgeon. All the things that Dr. Pierce is, Noah Puckerman is not. It's a surprising admission—even in Santana's head—but working on Maria Martinez's case has made her respect Dr. Pierce more than she thought possible. Seeing that little boy has made her respect her too. Maybe not her field, but her, as a doctor, at least. But Puckerman, he proves her point.

When he thinks Santana can't hear him, he talks about _blowing up titties._ He makes lewd gestures. He's obsessed with the female form, and the alteration of it. He's also an idiot. She has no idea how he got accepted into this program. She has no idea how he even got through _medical school._ Constantly, she has to explain simple procedures to him. She doesn't care that it's his first year, he should have learned the difference between Muscular Dystrophy and Spinal Muscular Atrophy in his first year of medical school.

Rose, for her part, keeps Puckerman mostly away from her. Marley Rose is a good doctor. Santana's not sure _what_ she did to get stuck with _him_ for the next two years, but she buys her coffee regularly, in a small attempt to make up for it.

He's there a month, before Santana throws him out of her operating room. She's removing a small cyst from the intestine of a four year old boy. Puckerman makes a joke about removing the birthmark from his chest while she's at it.

"Chicks won't dig that when he's older." He snickers. Santana sees red.

"Dr. Puckerman, out." She sets her scalpel down, and she looks him straight in the eye.

"Aw, c'mon bro, I'm just joking."

"I'm not your _bro,_ Puckerman. I'm your superior, and you'll address me as such. This is _my_ OR, and _my_ patient, who's having a serious medical procedure. Go see Dr. Rose, and tell her that _I_ said if you want to be in plastics so badly, you could go down there. I'm done."

Santana is only out of surgery for an hour, before she hears a sharp rap on her office door. She doesn't even have time to get up to see who it is, before the door opens. Standing there, still entirely put together, even as red tinges her cheeks, is Dr. Pierce.

"Dr. Lopez, a word?

"Let me guess." Santana closes the screen of her laptop, and crosses her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes, while Dr. Pierce closes the door behind her.

"Oh, you don't have to guess. Just go ahead and tell me _why_ you had your resident sent her intern down to me? The intern who's on _your_ service for the next four days."

"He wants to be in plastics, and he's _clearly_ unteachable anywhere else, so what's the point?"

"Don't give me that _crap._ It's your damn _job_ to teach him, not to send him down to disrupt _me_ right in the middle of a consult. You're _lucky_ I'm in _your_ office right now, and not Dr. Corcoran's. And—"

"You—"

"I'm not finished." Dr. Pierce snaps. "Did you really think it was a good idea to send someone to _me_ because they were making fun of he physical appearance of a child? Really, Dr. Lopez?"

"It had nothing to do with—"

"I don't care if you _think_ it had nothing to do with that." She balls her fists at her side. "My department isn't your garbage dump. Write him up, make him do charts all damn day, but _don't_ think you're going to make him _my_ problem every time he pisses you off. He might want to be in plastics, but it's _our_ job to give him a full surgical education. Tell me, if he wanted to be in cardio, would you have sent him to Dr. Jones? Or, better yet, would you have sent him up to Chief Sylvester if ortho was his thing? No, you wouldn't have, because you _know_ its disrespectful, and you'd only pull this crap with me and _my_ department."

In a huff, Dr. Pierce turns away from Santana's desk. Stunned over the confrontation—and, frankly, seeing Dr. Pierce more than just in passing for the first time in over a month—it takes her a moment to register what just happened. Her hand is on the door handle, before Santana opens her mouth, and in a brief moment of remorse, she takes a breath.

"Dr. Pierce."

"What?" She turns around, her ears and neck entirely flushed, every ounce of composure that Santana has seen since the moment she met the woman, completely gone. "You want to kick me down a little more? I _get_ it, you hate plastics. Plastic surgery is the worst specialty in the world. But you know what? _I'm_ not plastic surgery. I'm a _person,_ with _feelings,_ and I'm so damn tired of my every interaction with you being like this. I'm so damn tired of my son asking when he's going to play with _Dr. Santana_ again, and having to pretend that you're not absolutely _awful_ to me."

"I…" Santana is shocked when she watches Dr. Pierce quickly wipe beneath her eyes, before she stiffens her spine and lifts her chin again. "I was going to say that I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Dr. Pierce pushes the handle on the door down, and opens it up. "Me too."


	8. Chapter 8

Santana is speechless. For the first time since she started her career, she truly feels like she crossed a line. Ordinarily, she'd be concerned that Dr. Pierce would report her behavior to Shelby, or _worse,_ Chief Sylvester. But that's not what she's thinking about. She's thinking about Dr. Pierce's face. She's thinking about how her calm, cool and collected demeanor seemed to crumble. She's thinking about how _she_ had a hand in causing that, and it makes her feel like absolute shit.

She can't believe she's doing this, but Santana gets up from her desk, and she locks her office door behind her. She takes the stairs down to the plastics unit, and she stalks down the hall, until she reaches Dr. Pierce's office. It's dark, and the blinds are drawn, and when she knocks, there's no answer. Raking her fingers through her tangled mess of hair, Santana goes back upstairs. Her residents are at the nurse's station, and she pulls Dr. Rose aside.

"I need you to find Puckerman."

"But you—"

"I know." Santana shakes her head. "But I need you to pull him back. Give him all the scut you can find. If you run out, have him wash my damn office windows, if you have to. Just get him off Dr. Pierce's service."

"Yes, Dr. Lopez." Rose nods.

"Dr. Rose?"

"Something else?"

"Yeah…no. Just, thank you."

After checking on two of her patients, Santana goes back down to Dr. Pierce's office again. The door is still closed, and the room is still dark, and she wonders if she's gone home for the day. She can't stop thinking about the woman's face, and it's eating her up inside. It's her own damn fault, and she should stop feeling sorry for herself, but she just _can't._

Rather than go back upstairs, Santana opts for taking a break. She probably could have had Rose send Puckerman to get her coffee, but she doesn't even want his greasy hands on it. Plus, she doesn't want hospital scum. She wants to go to the little coffee shop around the corner, and she wants to put her headphones on for ten minutes while she savors a dark, rare Ethiopian blend and a scone.

It's cool and damp outside, and Santana pulls her white coat tight around herself. It's not exactly a weather barrier, but it's better than nothing. The coffee shop is quiet when she gets in there, and she's glad for it. She orders, and she sits down in a high backed chair, scrolling through her music, until she finds her _Rumours_ album. Fleetwood Mac calms her, it always has. Her mother says even as a baby, they would get her to sleep. Stevie Nicks, she's something else.

Santana has finally settled in, her music, her coffee, her scone, when she sees her there, at a table in the corner. Her eyes are red and swollen, and if Santana felt like shit _before_ this, there's not a word to explain how she feels now. Dr. Pierce, the head of the plastic and reconstructive surgery, is crying in a coffee shop, and Santana can do nothing but stare. Well, she can do nothing but stare for a minute, until Dr. Pierce looks up, absolutely _mortified,_ and Santana stands up, and walks toward her.

"Did you follow me here?" Blue eyes remain focused on the red mug of tea on the table, and Santana shakes her head.

"No. I looked for you in your office twice, I figured you went home."

"Well I didn't. I came here because I wanted to be left alone. _Obviously_ that's not possible when it comes to you."

"Look, I'll go. I'm just…sorry I upset you like this."

"Ha." Dr. Pierce half-scoffs, half-laughs, a bitter sort of sound. "You give yourself an awful lot of credit, don't you, Dr. Lopez?"

"What? I just…you were really upset when you came in my office, and I just…feel like shit."

"As you should. But you were just one final straw today. This isn't _your_ victory."

"I'm not trying to win something, jeeze. You act like I get off on other people's pain or something."

"Then _why?_ Why do it? Why not just go about your business, and ignore mine?"

"I really didn't think sending Puckerman down to you would set you off like this. I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Oh, Puckerman didn't _set me off._ You know what _set me off,_ Dr. Lopez? What set me off is that my sister, my _best friend_ died two years ago today. What set me off is that I sent her son to my mom's in Boston, because she needed him more than I do, and I just wanted to work for three straight so maybe wouldn't think about it. Puckerman didn't set me off. _You_ didn't even set me off. But it was sure as hell some crap icing on a shit cake."

"I'm—"

"Sorry, yeah, I know. You've said it. I just don't get what I ever did to you."

"It's not _you, it's just…" Santana feels it on the tip of her tongue, but she shakes the thought away. "Look, we don't know each other, and I'm really sorry that I was a jerk to you, when you've been nothing but helpful to me."_

She pulls out the chair across from Dr. Pierce, and she waits for the nod that affirms it's okay for her to sit there. When it comes, she settles in, and takes a sip of her coffee.

"Do you think maybe we can start over?"

"Dr. Lopez." Dr. Pierce sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She's reluctant, Santana can tell, and she doesn't blame her. "I can't help but feel like I'd be making a mistake. I keep letting you in on things in my life, and it keeps biting me in the ass."

"I'm not saying we have to be _friends._ I don't even know you, and I haven't exactly proven that I'm worth being a friend with anyway. I guess, I'm just saying what I should have said from the start. Welcome to New York, Dr. Pierce."

"Brittany." She picks at the muffin in front of her, but looks Santana in the eye, and extends her hand. "We're colleagues, so you can call me Brittany."


	9. Chapter 9

After their encounter at the coffee shop, Santana doesn't see Dr. Pierce—er, _Brittany_ —for weeks. There's really no reason for her to. The number of her cases that involve the plastics department are so few and far between. There's no reason for Santana to keep thinking about her either. But she can't help it.

It's beyond her comprehension, why this woman crosses her mind at least once a day, but she absolutely does. Maybe it's that she walks past the daycare on her way to her office, and she thinks of that little boy. Maybe it's because she's never seen a woman so emotionally vulnerable, as Dr. Pierce was that afternoon in the coffee shop. Or maybe it's just because she's absolutely losing her mind. It's possible she should reconsider an evaluation.

She goes out with Kurt and Mercedes after work. She sees the girl that she hooked up, all those weeks earlier in the bar. Her stomach rolls a little at the sight of her, and she knocks back another bourbon. She's flirting with a girl Santana recognizes from Oncology, and the whole thing just makes her squirm.

"Total doctor fucker." Kurt calls the bartender over to refill Santana's glass. "Don't get all bent out of shape about it."

"I'm not bent out of shape. She can fuck whoever she wants, I'm mostly hoping she doesn't _see me._ "

"Please, she's all over Corazon, you're so old news."

"Gee, Kurt, way to make her feel _great_ about herself." Mercedes rolls her eyes and slides her beer bottle to the back of the counter. "I'm also in favor of her not seeing Santana. I _hate_ the awkward run in with her hookups."

"Please. It was _one_ time, 'Cedes, let it go."

"One time that's permanently ingrained in my memory. Anyway, I'm team _let's find Dr. Lopez a girlfriend._ "

"And I'm team _Dr. Lopez doesn't want a girlfriend._ " Santana scoffs, stirring the new drink in front of her.

"No, shut up, I like the first team better." Kurt claps his hands, and Santana slams her hand down on the bar.

"No. I'm not kidding. Let it go."

Ignoring the look that Kurt and Mercedes share, Santana finishes her drink in silence. She's kind of done with being in the bar, and she's done with expectations from anyone, even the teasing ones of her friends. If she wanted to hear about how she should get a girlfriend, she'd call her mother. It doesn't matter how well anyone means, she's perfectly happy how she is right now. The last thing she wants is someone else to feel accountable to.

Throwing some bills on the bar, Santana says a quick goodbye to her friends. They'll stay all night, but she's just ready to go home. She's drunker than she meant to get, and seeing that girl reminded her of how shitty she'd felt a few weeks ago. Or, if she's telling the truth, how shitty she typically feels after any hookup.

Like she always does, Santana goes back into the hospital to get her things. She hates bringing them to the bar with her. The last thing she wants is for her briefcase to be sticky from a spilled drink, or smell like the smoke that clings to people's clothes when they come back inside from having a cigarette. Maybe she's particular, but that's fine. She has no one but herself to answer to, and she can be as particular as she wants.

After she grabs her bag and heads back downstairs, she sees her there, in the lobby. She sees Dr. Pierce, her own bag slung over one shoulder, a Thomas the Tank backpack on her back, and a sleeping child in her arms. It strikes Santana then, how vastly different their lives her. It strikes her, how just moments earlier, she'd been thinking of how she has no one but herself to answer to. And then there's Dr. Pierce, with the smallest _big_ thing to answer to. It's a fleeting thought, but an intense one, nonetheless.

"Hello, Dr. Lopez." She waves a little, trying to keep the slumping child upright.

"Santana, remember?" Santana shrugs a little, hoping she's not slurring her words. "Colleagues."

"Right. Santana."

"Do you, uh, need any help with all that?"

"I'm fine. We do this every day…"

"Yeah, no, I mean, I get that. I just figured because I was standing here, or whatever, I could go get you a cab." Shifting awkwardly between feet, Santana pulls her hand through her loose curls. She doesn't know what it is about Dr. Pierce that makes her incapable of acting like a human being, but it makes her nuts.

"My car's in the garage. Still not quite used to this New York stuff. I always drove in Boston, and it's just easier with Liam, so…yeah."

"Oh, yeah, totally makes sense." Santana nods dumbly. "I mean, I'd drive, but that would mean I couldn't drink after work, and I never know what days I might need to, so…"

"Looks like today was one of those days then?" Intense blue eyes look her over, and Santana shivers with, something… Embarrassment, maybe?

"I guess so, yeah."

"Me too." Dr. Pierce cracks a small smile, and kisses the boy's head. "But I'll wait until he's tucked into bed before I open a bottle of wine."

"Sounds like a solid plan." There's a pause, and Santana considers what she'll say next. "Well, I should let you get home then. You sure you don't need any help getting to your car?"

"I think we're good. Thanks though. Goodnight, Dr.—Santana. Hopefully tomorrow is a better day for both of us."


	10. Chapter 10

Santana is at the tail end of a week of overnights, when Shelby finds her in her office. She's working her way through her charts, when she looks up and sees her there. It's unlike Shelby Corcoran to look so distraught, but she does, and Santana immediately jumps to her feet.

"I'm fine." Shelby holds up her hand, before Santana can get any closer. "My mother died, I have to go to Ohio, but I'm _fine."_

"Shelby, I'm so—"

"Yeah, me too, thanks. But I don't need you to be sorry, I need you to cover the department and my surgeries for me while I'm gone."

"Totally, yeah." She nods vigorously. "For however long you need."

"I'll be back Monday. Tuesday, _max._ I've got two appendectomies, an extended aortic resection with Washington, and a nasal bridge perforation repair with Pierce."

"Okay, I'm on it." Santana mentally checks off the tasks, barely registering that one is with Dr. Pierce. "I'm gonna crash in an on call room for a few hours, and then I'm good to go."

"Thank you. And Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm trusting you, so do me a favor. Don't run my department into the ground."

Appendectomies are cake. Santana can do them in her sleep, and the first two days of covering for Shelby go off without a hitch. Day three is a little more complicated. Marley Rose pukes in her office, when she comes to tell her she's not feeling well, and she sends her home, so as not to infect everyone on the unit. As a result, Santana ends up handing half of her rounds off to Unique, and taking the other half for herself. On top of all that, she's got Dr. Pierce's surgery scheduled for the afternoon, and she spends every spare minute between patients and vomiting residents skimming the file, trying to be at least moderately prepared to assist. Obviously, if Shelby had initially planned to do it herself, rather than hand it off to a resident or an intern, it's important. Shelby has trusted her, and she doesn't want to let her down.

In the two times Santana had been in surgery with Dr. Pierce, she had been so focused on her disdain that she didn't noticed her scrub caps. This time though, as they're scrubbing in side by side, she sees what she's wearing, and she chuckles a little to herself. Wearing that, it seems like Dr. Pierce belongs more in _her_ department than plastics, and something about that is comforting.

"Are you laughing at Oscar the Grouch?" Dr. Pierce cocks her head to the side, a half smile playing on her lips. "Because I could do the same about Wonder Woman."

"I just think you're the first surgeon I've ever encountered outside of Peds with a cartoon scrub cap. What would your patients think?"

"What they don't know won't hurt them." She winks, sliding her hands into her gloves. "Liam likes picking them out for me. And then I have him with me while I'm in the OR, so it's a win-win."

"Three years old, and already picking out scrub caps, color me impressed."

"Not even three. Not for two more weeks."

"Happy early birthday to him then." Santana takes her turn getting into her gloves, and follows Brittany through the door to the operating room. "So any plans for the big zero-three."

"Nothing really. We haven't really made any friends here yet, and I'm working the day after, so it'll just be us and my parents."

The sight of the patient in front of them shocks Santana, and she takes a step back. Even after she'd taken a quick glance at the patient's file, Santana didn't realize exactly what they were doing, and it turns her stomach a little, seeing the teenage girl on the table, bruised around her eyes, and swollen on her cheeks.

"Did you do this?" Santana looks at Dr. Pierce, absolutely aghast.

"No." She shakes her head, an answer, and also a dismissal of the judgmental notion. "As a rule, I don't perform elective cosmetic surgery on _children._ "

"I didn't mean—"

"This isn't the first time I've had to fix it through."

The easy banter they'd had in the scrub room is gone, and it's replaced not with disdain, but with a sort of awkwardness. Santana can tell that Dr. Pierce isn't holding the assumption against her, but still, it makes room for some of that old awkwardness to creep back in. This right here, this teenage girl with a botched nose job, is exactly why she hates plastics. This teenage girl is what tears at her heart and makes her chest ache.

"I just don't get it." Dr. Pierce muses, looking over her magnifier.

"Get what?"

"Why? Why would a perfectly healthy sixteen year old want to change her body? And better question, why would her parents allow it?"

"You always looked like this, didn't you?" Santana's tone is flat, and Wes, the same scrub nurse who'd been in the operating room the last time she and Dr. Pierce worked together stiffens visibly. "Never had an awkward stage in high school?"

A bitter laugh escapes Dr. Pierce's throat, and she shakes her head a little, "I was a walking _awkward_ stage, pretty much my whole life. Thin and gangly, flat chested, glasses, braces. I couldn't even walk down a hallway properly. I kept my head in a book all through high school. I graduated when I was sixteen. I just wanted to get out. It didn't change in college. By the time I was twenty, I was in medical school, and it wasn't until after I'd taken my first set of boards that I _blossomed,_ so to speak."

"And you never wanted to change how you looked?"

"No. I didn't. I just figured I'd prove that I was smarter, stronger, and that would be enough. Let me tell you, I went to my twenty-year high school reunion last year, and it absolutely _was._ "

"And you don't think any of that has to do with how you look right now?"

"I like to think my Harvard degrees and double board certifications speak for themselves."

"Trust me, _Brittany,_ I'd like to think the same thing. But people are shallow."

"I thought you were against plastic surgery."

"Oh, I am." Santana rolls her eyes. "I'm just saying that it's unfair to this kid to think she's wrong in _wanting_ it."

"You're certainly full of contractions, aren't you?"

Santana doesn't speak for the rest of the surgery. She feels for the kid on the table. She's _been_ the kid on the table, and she hates it. She appreciates Dr. Pierce's capable hands, fixing the mess that some other surgeon made of her face, but her stomach is still unsettled, and she can't wait to get out of there.

She's tired, she knows that's a part of it, but still, she can't scrub out fast enough. She goes with Dr. Pierce to talk to her parents, to let them know the surgery was successful, that blood won't pour out of their daughter's nose anymore, and that the scarring will be minimal. But then, after they part ways in the elevator, she shuts herself up in her office. She's not sure she's been home since Shelby left, and leaning her head back against her chair, she closes her eyes. She shuts out the thoughts of the surgery they just did, of her own surgery so many years earlier. She shuts out the thoughts, and she figures she'll just sleep for ten minutes, until someone undoubtedly comes to wake her up.


	11. Chapter 11

Three days pass, before Santana sees Dr. Pierce again. The night of Amy Shapiro's corrective surgery—Santana reminds herself of her name over and over, her obsessive nature taking over as she sits in her office afterwards—Shelby comes back. Seeing just how many hours Santana has logged, she immediately sends her home, and demands she doesn't even _think about_ the hospital until Thursday. Santana gives her no argument.

When she comes back, Santana feels like she has a mountain of work to catch up on. Despite the fact that she doesn't _work_ every day, it really is rare that so much time passes without her at _least_ checking in. She's not exaggerating when she says that she's married to her work.

She's just walking the parents of a nine-year-old patient with a tumor on his adrenal gland out of her office, when she notices Dr. Pierce loitering at the nurses station. Amy Shapiro, the girl with the botched nose job, had been discharged while Santana was off, and as far as she knows, there are no other plastics patients on the floor at the moment. She looks Dr. Pierce over, grey skirt hitting above the knee, glasses tucked into the pocket of her white coat, hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her usual collected stance.

Dr. Pierce catches Santana staring. She doesn't make a _thing_ of it, even as heat creeps up the back of Santana's neck, and she wipes her palms on her own skirt. She just finishes her conversation with the nurse, then slowly approaches Santana.

"Dr. Lopez, I was hoping for a word with you?"

"A consult?"

"No. Just a conversation."

With a nod, Santana leads Dr. Pierce into her office. Her palms are still sweaty, and she's not sure why. They had sort of moved past the awkwardness between them, and they're just colleagues. But still, that last surgery opened a lot up, and so, Santana wipes her hands on her skirt again, before she sits at her desk and folds them in her lap.

"I just wanted to see if there was something I said that offended you the other day." Dr. Pierce waits a beat after sitting down across from Santana before she speaks. "Contrary to our rocky start, I think we work well together, and I don't want to compromise that."

"No." Santana picks at her cuticles, before she looks up into those sharp blue eyes across from her. "It's fine, it's my own hang up."

"If plastics cases bother you like this, I'll make sure I get someone else when I need a peds consult."

"Why did you choose plastics?" She changes the conversation abruptly, and Dr. Pierce looks taken aback. "Sorry, it's not my business. You don't have to answer that."

"Nancy."

"Nancy?"

"Yes. She was from California. When I was seven, my second grade teacher got us involved with a pen pals project. You know, how everyone did that back in the '80s? Well, I got Nancy, and I took it very seriously. We continued to write back and forth for years afterwards. When I was ten, she sent a picture of herself. I'd never seen someone with a cleft lip and palate until then, and even now, doing what I do, I can say hers was particularly bad."

"So you decided to become a plastic surgeon?"

"Well not at ten." Dr. Pierce laughs a little, but a strange look crosses her face. "My mom told me what it was, and I started reading about it then though. Even though we were across the country from each other, she was my _friend,_ and I was curious. Also, more than a little nerdy."

"What happened to her?"

"We grew up, we started writing less and less, and eventually, it just stopped completely. But by the time I started applying for college, I'd read, I'm not even kidding, _thousands_ of articles on anatomy and reconstructive surgery. One book at the library opened the door to all these interesting things, and I couldn't get enough. I still have all my pen pal letters though, and that first picture of Nancy, smiling with her front two teeth missing."

"But why not something else?" Santana wonders aloud, then snaps her mouth shut. "Sorry, I just mean, it's not the only field where you could help people."

"I get this all the time. Because if everyone who wanted to do good did something other than plastics, then you'd have a whole lot of nose jobs and boob jobs, and not a whole lot of help for people who _need_ plastics. Yesterday, I built a new cheek for a woman who'd had skin cancer so bad that most of her face to be removed. Last week, I reattached a twenty-one year old boy's ear. I've done about a hundred times the number of reconstructions as I have elective surgeries."

"A hundred times?" Santana's jaw drops, and Dr. Pierce nods.

"I worked at a surgical clinic in Beattyville, Kentucky for five years after I finished my internship, and before I went back to Brigham. I still laugh sometimes at the red tape in these big hospitals hospitals. In Kentucky, I was twenty-three, doing major surgeries without a _scrub nurse_ half the time. In this other world, a resident needs like fourteen signatures to remove a mole."

"That's pretty impressive." She speaks the truth, and Dr. Pierce smiles a little. "The solo surgeries, not all the paperwork we have to do."

"It's my dream, this job. But I have hang ups too. I have a hard time seeing beautiful, healthy people change their appearance, when I see every day people who will never look quote-unquote _normal._ And to love a little person like that on top of it, it does make my job difficult sometimes."

"You're not who I thought you were." Santana marvels. "I mean, I recognized that before now, but it just seems like the more I get to know you…"

"Never judge a book by its cover, right?"

"That _is_ what they say." She sits back in her chair. "So since I answered your question, why peds?"

"I figured I'd go into neuro, because my father hates it, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of going into cardio. But it turns out, neuro is _boring,_ and I really liked working with Shelby. If you told me ten years ago that I'd be doing what I'm doing, I'd have laughed in your face and told you that I didn't even like kids."

"But you're glad you chose it?"

"I am. I love my job, and the kids have grown on me too."

"They're pretty cool people." Dr. Pierce smiles, and starts to stand up. "So we're good?"

"Yeah. We're good. Thanks for…you know, coming to talk to me." Santana nods, then, just as Dr. Pierce opens the door, she stops her. "Brittany?"

"Yeah?"

"To answer your other question, from the OR the other day, about the parents. Sometimes a little girl isn't what her father hoped she'd be, so he'll be willing to change what he can. And sometimes, the mother doesn't know how to do anything but say yes to him."


	12. Chapter 12

Following her sort-of revelation to Dr. Pierce, Santana obsesses. That's what she does, anytime she opens up a little, to _anyone._ She thinks about if she should have said it, if she'll be judged, if she made a huge mistake. If. If. If. This is why very, _very_ few people at work know anything about her personal life. Well, the slim remains of a personal life she actually _has._

But Dr. Pierce doesn't mention it. Not when they bump into each other a few days later at their secret coffee shop. Not when Santana walks into Mercedes' office without knocking, and finds her there for a consult. Not at all, and it makes her both breathe a sigh of relief, and tense up, hoping the other shoe doesn't drop.

Santana has a shockingly quiet week. The calm before the storm, maybe, but she'll take it. She only has three surgeries, and her post-op patients are stable. So, she takes the time doing research. She has a sixteen day old patient with biliary atresia, and she's studying new ways to do a Kasai procedure, before his operation next week. She's grateful for the time, but yet, she always feels unsettled when she isn't churning out surgeries, healing patients, making miracles.

She decides to leave early one night, a rarity for her. But she's got a couch calling her name, a pair of worn out sweatpants with the ankles cut, from undergrad. She's got mindless television, a menu for sushi, and a bottle of red wine. She's got the day off tomorrow, and she's probably going to avoid the early summer humidity, and go see a movie by herself. Maybe her life outside the hospital is boring, but when she spends her days saving the lives of small people, a little boring is good.

"Mama!" Santana hears a familiar peal of laughter when the elevator opens. The little boy jumps up and down, and he seems to almost vibrate with excitement. "Look! Look! Doccer Santana!"

"Hey." Dr. Pierce smiles, giving her a wave. "It sure is, Li."

"Doccer Santana! Doccer Santana! Know what?"

"What?" She pretends not to see the paper crown, emblazoned with a number _three_ on his head.

"It's my birfday! T'morrow!"

"Is it? Wow, that sounds pretty neat. Lemme guess, you're gonna be fourteen."

"No!" He laughs louder, and hugs Dr. Pierce's side, holding up three fingers. "Just free!"

"Wow, that's pretty big."

"I gon' have a big, big, big party! Wif Mama and Granny and Grampy and Tub-a-Ton!"

"That sounds _awesome._ " Santana looks up to meet Dr. Pierce's eyes, and she just smiles and nods.

"You wan' come? We gettin' _cake!_ "

"Oh, I—"

"Li, baby." Dr. Pierce beings simultaneously. "Santana probably has to work tomorrow."

"I…" Santana doesn't lie to a kid, but she also doesn't want to get his hopes up that she'll be there. The whole thing just feels incredibly awkward, so she fidgets, watching the lights on the elevator.

"You gotta work, Doccer Santana?"

"You're more than welcome to come." Dr. Pierce tells her quietly, assuming, Santana thinks, that the little boy won't hear her over his bouncing. "It's nothing big. And obviously, I don't expect you to."

"I'm…" Santana trails off, then nods, remembering what Dr. Pierce had said about not making friends here yet. In the time since they first met, she and Dr. Pierce have come a long way, and she dares to assume, even, that they're close to becoming _friends._ "What time is your party, Liam?"

"Mama! Mama! What'sa time?"

"It's at four o'clock. Big hand pointing up, little hand on the number four."

"Four o'clock? Okay, sir." Santana nods solemnly at Dr. Pierce's son. "I'll be there."

Dr. Pierce gives Santana her address, once again reminding her that she really, really doesn't have to come. Then, for the next eighteen hours, Santana obsesses. Sometimes she feels like her human interaction skills, outside of the hospital, are entirely non-existent, and yet here she is, trying to figure out what to wear to a three-year-old's birthday party.

Once _that_ is settled, and she tosses a nice top and a pair of denim shorts in the dryer, in order to get the wrinkles out, she realizes she has to find a gift. Of course, by the time she gets around to remembering that, it's after eight. Still wearing her scrubs, she ventures out in a frantic effort to find something before every store closes, and she has to resume the effort in the morning.

She finds a gift. A set of wooden trains, modeled after real subway cars. Dr. Pierce had said that she drives to the hospital, but she wonders if they ride the subway other places. She wonders if the boy will recognize the trains. She wonders, and she starts obsessing—even as the wrapped gift sits on her table, and she _finally_ is able to get her sweatpants and wine on—if maybe her gift was a stupid idea.

The next day, Santana inexplicably spends three hours getting ready. Typically, she's a disheveled mess at the hospital, unless she's got consults scheduled, so she makes a conscious effort _not_ to be one, when Dr. Pierce has invited her into her home. Almost an hour of her time is spent in the shower, exfoliating, shaving, things that seem utterly ridiculous to do before a little boy's party, but hey, Santana _really_ doesn't get out much. Then the other two are spent taming her unmanageable hair, putting on makeup, checking eight times if her outfit is really okay. She _assumes_ it's super casual, since it's Dr. Pierce, her parents, a three-year-old, and a _Tub-a-Ton,_ but still. She doesn't want to make bad impression number…whatever the count is at now.

She takes a cab to Dr. Pierce's. It's only about fifteen blocks away—she was right, when she saw them in the park, that they had to live close to her—but the humidity will wreck havoc on her hair if she walks, and the idea of taking car seldom-used car out of the garage and attempting to park seems like a _worse_ option. She pays the driver when she arrives, and while just recently, she'd have been surprised at the cozy brownstone, rather than a posh, amenity laden building, but now, it seems _right._

When Santana knocks at the door, she sees a little face peek through the window. The birthday boy knocks at it, so Santana notices him, and when he grins, she can't help but feel infected by his happiness.

"Santana." Dr. Pierce smiles, opening the heavy wooden door. "Hi."

"Granny! Grampy! Doccer Santana comed! She fixeded them huggin' babies wif Mama!"

In a flurry of activity, Santana is ushered inside. There are hugs. There are questions, and frankly, Santana is more than a little overwhelmed. But they're nice people, Whitney, the big and boisterous blonde, and Pierce, the dry witted—to Santana's surprise—Korean man. They're welcoming, and in a big open room draped with Thomas the Tank Engine decorations, Santana feels surprisingly more at home than she's felt anywhere in a long time.

She meets Tub-a-Ton, or, Lord Tubbington, a big, fat cat, in a conductor's hat, who follows his tiny, overalled owner around. She doesn't like cats—or most animals, really—but this one impresses her. He's huge and ornery looking, but he lets this little boy carry him around, hug him, treat him as his playmate. She enjoys that, and she laughs with Dr. Pierce's family, when he ends up sitting on her lap she plays with Legos on the floor.

Though she'd planned to stay only for a little while, she ends up giving in to the birthday boy's pleas for her to stay. She doesn't want to overstay her welcome, but Dr. Pierce's mother becomes just as insistent that she stick around for dinner. Before she knows it, Santana has had three glasses of wine, and a second slice of bright blue birthday cake. She stays for the opening of the birthday gifts, for the inevitable setup of dozens of train tracks, and then, for tiny arms to wrap around her middle.

"G'night! Doccer Santana! I haved a best party!"

"Li, say _thank you_ for coming, and for your awesome new trains."

"Thanky you! I love them trains!"

"You're welcome." Santana doesn't know why, but she feels a lump in her throat. Damn all the wine. She barely knows these people, and they've got her all kinds of emotional. "Happy birthday, little guy. I'll see you around soon, okay?"

"You can come back _forever!_ "

"Good to know." She chokes out a laugh, and Dr. Pierce scoops him up.

"You go upstairs with Granny and Grampy, okay? I'll be up in a few minutes."

"And Tub-a-Ton!"

"And Lord Tubbington."

Santana says goodbye to Dr. Pierce's parents, and they follow their grandson up the stairs. Looking around for a second, she picks up her wine glass, and brings it to the kitchen sink.

"You can leave it, it's fine…"

"I mean…it's only good manners to clean up after myself." Santana shrugs, then takes her bag off the back of the chair. "So, uh, thanks for having me tonight."

"No, thank _you._ You really didn't have to come. I'm sure you had way more exciting things you could have been doing than this."

"I was pretty much just going to go to the movies by myself, so _this_ was actually the real excitement. I had fun."

"I'm glad." Dr. Pierce half smiles, as they walk together to the door. "It meant a lot to Liam…and to me too. This is the first year since…that my mom didn't cry, so really, I appreciate you being here."

Santana shifts her weight between her feet, looking down at her sandals. It's one of those times where she's just not sure what she's supposed to say, so she just _doesn't,_ making the silence incredibly weird.

"Well, I should…"

"Yeah." Dr. Pierce tilts her head toward the stairs. "Me too."

"Cool. Yeah." She goes to shake her hand, since she can't think of anything else to do, but then, she's taken off guard by a hug. It's barely long enough to catch a whiff of the perfume that Dr. Pierce is wearing, but there's a lingering sort of sensation, her stomach reacts to it. She steps back, and reaches for the knob of the door.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?"

"I guess this means that we're kind of friends now?"

"Yeah." Santana laughs, not sure what she was expecting her to say. "Yeah, definitely."


	13. Chapter 13

Santana is going to _kill_ Kurt Hummel. She's not exaggerating that point either. If he wasn't elbow deep in repairing a bowel perforation, she'd been perforating _his_ bowel at this very moment. But lucky for him, he is. Lucky for him, Santana Lopez won't burst into his OR, flowery note in hand.

Yes, Kurt wrote her a note. She'd come out of a tonsillectomy to find said note, written on KH embossed stationary, sitting in the center of her desk. There was a Three Musketeers bar sitting next to it. That should have been the giveaway that the note was going to infuriate her. Instead, Santana had given him the benefit of the doubt, and assumed he was just being a good friend. She was so majorly wrong.

 _Dearest Satan,_

 _In spite of your previous instructions not to meddle in your business, I just couldn't help myself._

 _David's friend is in town, and she's in need of some…how do you put it? Female company, I suppose. I took the liberty of telling her to meet you at 6:00 sharp, at AquaMarina._

 _I'm sure you're mad now, and you have no idea how to be a human, most of the time, but I know that you'll thank me later. Do ONLY things that I wouldn't do._

 _To keep the mystery alive, your lady date for the evening will be wearing a purple dress. Look for her in the booth by the window._

 _-K_

Livid doesn't even begin to describe the way Santana feels. When she realizes Kurt is unreachable, she goes to Mercedes' office. Apparently, Mercedes knew, and she thinks it's good for her to go out. Santana almost throws a plastic model of a heart at her head.

If her closest friends don't get it, _no one_ will, and Santana sulks as she changes out of her scrubs, and back into the dress she'd worn for her morning consults. No, she doesn't want to go, but she also won't stand the girl up. It's not _her_ fault that her friend's boyfriend is an idiot.

At 5:45, Santana leaves the hospital. She's still fantasizing about perforating Kurt's bowel, but she opts, instead, for turning on the silent treatment. No phone calls, no texts, no coffee and gossip for the next week. It'll serve him right for going against her explicit instructions not to do this. It will serve him right for just _not_ understanding, even after nearly a decade of friendship.

The girl in the purple dress is there, waiting, and Santana forces a smile. Her name is Dani, and she's from Chicago. She's a music producer, and she doesn't eat meat. Mostly, what Santana learns, is that she likes to talk about 's fine, Santana doesn't really feel like talking anyway, and at least when Kurt tries to accuse her of not giving the girl a chance, she has a reason why.

By the time the waiter brings the check, Santana is on her fourth glass of wine, and her four _hundredth_ story about…something. The roller derby, maybe? Santana had kind of tuned her out and started mentally performing hernia surgery somewhere at the beginning of glass number two. She shouldn't have felt bad and come. This woman would have been _more_ than capable of entertaining herself for the evening.

Santana can't pay the check fast enough, and when Dani goes to kiss her—like seriously, did she think the date went _well?_ —she gives her the cheek instead. She can barely be bothered to give her an "it's late" excuse, and shove her in a cab, before she's stalking back to the hospital, hell bent on killing Kurt Hummel. She'll even help David Martinez in his hiring of a new general surgeon, it's fine.

Kurt _still_ isn't in his office when Santana gets back. Figuring she should probably get a cup of coffee to keep her head from spinning, she looks at the time, and laments that her coffee shop is closed. Resigning herself to the idea of shitty coffee, she grabs her bag from her office, and she goes down to the cafeteria.

Once she's got a cup of the sludge, she sits down at a table. Why she's still at the hospital, she has no idea. She can't even use attempted murder as an excuse, because _Kurt_ has probably gone home already. This is the kind of thing that adds fuel to his fire, about her needing a life. But she's _fine._ She's totally fine, drinking shitty hospital coffee by herself, when she should be long home. Really.

"Weren't you already here when I left this morning?" Santana's head snaps up at the sound of Dr. Pierce's voice, and she rolls her eyes at herself.

"Stalking me, then?"

"Oh yeah, totally. Definitely didn't see you strut into the emergency room or anything."

"You saw me, I didn't see you. I'll call it stalking." Santana grins, as Dr. Pierce sits down across from her. "You're doing overnights? Doesn't that suck when you have a kid?"

"In some ways, I guess, mostly because whatever sleep I get is in the on call room, but I like that he sleeps through the whole time he's in day care." She shrugs. "So it's a net win, I think."

"Well, then I'm glad for that." Raising her coffee cup in a mock toast, Santana smiles. "Sorry, I'm a still a little tipsy."

"Not doing surgery, I hope."

"No. Just…I don't know, avoiding going home or something. I just went on a shitty date that I didn't want to go on to begin with."

"Ah." Dr. Pierce sips from her cup. "Someone set you up with him?"

"Uh…" Santana hesitates. "It was a her."

"I was mostly asking to confirm my suspicions." A blush creeps across her cheeks, and Santana feels her own neck heat up. "Is that…okay?"

"Santana. I was engaged to a woman for two years. I think it would be pretty hypocritical of me to have a problem with you going on a _date_ with one."

"Okay, so my gaydar is obviously a joke."

"Maybe because I'm into both." Dr. Pierce shrugs. "So, want to talk about why your date sucked."

"Well, since I _specifically_ gave Dr. Hummel the direction not to set me up with anyone, it stated off on the wrong food. But, even if I _had_ wanted to, I've never met a woman so full of herself."

"You clearly haven't met my ex." Crossing her legs, Dr. Pierce picks at the croissant in front of her.

"Her name's not Dani, is it?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Her name's definitely not Dani."

"I just don't know why it's so _shocking_ that a person wants to be single. I mean, you'd think, among surgeons, they'd _get_ it."

"I get it." Dr. Pierce nods. "I was the same."

"And now you're not?"

"Maybe it's different because I have a kid now, or because I'm obviously older than you are, but I think there's also something to be said for coming home to someone you love, even if it's at all hours of the night."

"You're not _that_ much older than me." Santana sucks her teeth.

"What are you? Thirty? Thirty-one?"

"I'm thirty-three, actually. So, do I get to ask why you have an _ex_ \- fiancée then?"

"Sometimes people want different things." Her demeanor darkens, and she finishes the last of her coffee. "And sometimes people aren't flexible to things beyond their control."

"I'm sorry I brought it up…"

"No, no, it's fine." Dr. Pierce waves her off, standing up with her empty cup, and half of her croissant. "It is what it is, it's been years, so I'm not really worried about that anymore. I'm sorry I have to cut you short, I'm working the ER tonight."

"Those lucky lac patients." Santana draws a line across her forehead. "No scarring tonight."

"You know it." She nods in reply. "Go home. Even if you don't want to date anyone, you probably shouldn't _live_ at the hospital."

"Noted." Santana gives her a little salute. "Good luck in the pit."

"Thanks, hope I don't need it!"


	14. Chapter 14

It becomes something of a thing, Santana running into Dr. Pierce in the cafeteria while she's working nights. It's incredibly lame, what a highlight of her day it is, but… Well, she doesn't really have an explanation. They don't make plans together, or anything they just "happen" to be in the same place at the same time. That, or Santana is stalking her, one or the other.

It's already been one hell of a day, when Santana goes into a lung transplant. The patient has been on the waiting list since she was born, suffering from bronchopulmonary dysplasia for two long years. She's been in and out of the hospital for her whole life, and this could be it, this could be her chance to run, and jump and play. For her family to be free from the constant worries about a simple infection killing her.

It's Santana and Chief Sylvester, waiting for the transplant team from Johns Hopkins. They don't talk much as they wait. Frankly, Santana is beyond intimidated by Sylvester, and Sylvester doesn't go out of her way to make conversation. But they work well together, they always have.

The weather delays the transplant team, and Santana watches the clock. There's only so much time, every second counts, and she can't sit still. If the lung doesn't survive transport, it's back to the waiting list, back to taking away hope from a family who so desperately needs its But finally, they arrive, lung in tact. Finally, Santana feels like _she_ can breathe again.

Sometimes, Santana detaches, when she does surgery. She pretends she doesn't know the patient's name. She pretends she doesn't know how small they are. She pretends that she doesn't have crayon drawings by them in her office. This one is one of those patients. It's easier that way. It's always easier like this, when the odds of survival aren't the greatest.

Santana knows the odds going in. The parents know the odds too. Everyone on the transplant team knows, so when Santana opens up the little girl's chest, there's a collective holding of breaths. Nothing amazes her more than transplants, even after all this time. An organ from someone else—another _someone_ that Santana won't personify, another small someone who didn't get a chance to grow up—hopefully functioning in a new body. It's a miracle, and it makes Santana feel superhuman. It's a miracle, when it works.

That feeling, like she's some sort of deity, it makes it harder when it doesn't go right. It makes it harder when the tiny lung doesn't turn pink. It makes it harder, when she checks and checks, over and over, hoping she just missed something, hoping a suture or a simple repair will let this lung fill with air. It makes it harder, when the tiny patient, who's spent her whole life in and out of hospitals, begins to code. It makes it harder, but Santana fights until the very end. She fights until the words leave Chief Sylvester's lips. _Dr. Lopez, we've done all we can. You need to call it._ At 9:43pm, Santana takes a breath, when her patient can't. At 9:43pm, she calls the time of death. It's 9:43, as she closes up a chest that will never rise and fall again.

"Fuck!" Santana rips her Wonder Woman cap off her head and throws it against the wall in the scrub room, kicking the sink. "Fuck, fuck, fuck _fuck!_ "

It's all a blur, as she and Chief Sylvester have to tell the parents that they did everything they could. It's a blur as a nurse hands her the hoodie she'd left behind in the scrub room, and she pulls it over her head, trying to hide herself. It's a blur as she breaks into a run down the hall, and when she drops to her knees and pukes in a patient bathroom. Being an accessory to death doesn't get easier, no matter how many times she does it.

Santana should go home. She knows that she should. Between the delayed arrival of the lung, and so much extra time in surgery, she's been in the hospital for sixteen hours. She needs a shower and her bed. She needs to go home. To get away from the death that clings to her body. Except she doesn't. She wander aimlessly down the halls, in search of an empty on call room. She wanders, until she finds one, and she curls up onto a bed, burying her face in her pillow and just sobbing.

"Hey, are you okay?" A sleep-groggy voice cuts through her tears, and Santana bites down on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, trying to calm herself down.

"Sorry…I didn't know anyone was in here."

"Santana?" Dr. Pierce sits up, and before Santana can protest, she's on her feet, pulling her hair up, and sitting down on the bed beside her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, totally, I—" Santana feels a sob catch in her throat, and tears fall as she shakes her head. Dr. Pierce tentatively puts her hand over Santana's and squeezes, trying to give her a small comfort. "Yeah maybe I'm not."

"Patient?"

"Dead kid." She sniffles, wiping her dripping nose on her sleeve. "I know I should be over crying about this by now, but…"

"I think, if watching a patient die was something that stopped effecting you, then you'd stop being human."

"I throw up, every time. I just…I don't get it."

"Why some people live, and some people die?"

"Why sometimes I do riskier surgeries and manage to save them, and sometimes I do easier ones, and I don't. Why I went into surgery to save lives, and sometimes I have to _take_ them while trying. Why I wasted a damn good lung, that could have saved someone else, if not her."

"I wish I knew the answer to that." Dr. Pierce sighs and Santana looks up at her, blue eyes deep with concern. For some reason, Santana looks down at her lips sucked into her mouth, and then she quickly looks away. Her stomach stirs, and she sucks in a breath. "I'm really sorry."

"Thank you." Santana breathes, then moves away, pulling her hand with her. It's grief, it's exhaustion overtaking her, and she just needs a little space. The thought of pressing her lips against her friend's mouth is absolutely irrational, and if she'd get some damn sleep, she wouldn't be thinking this way.

"Sorry, I…didn't mean to crowd you." She whispers.

"No. No. It's fine. I just…think I need to go home."

"Yeah." Dr. Pierce clenches and unclenches her fist, studying Santana's face. "That's probably a really good idea."


	15. Chapter 15

It takes Santana a few days to get back into the swing of things. It's always like that after she loses a patient. She'll numb herself doing sutures in the pit, feeling like a superhero with each wound close, with each parent she gives peace of mind to. And she'll relish the successful tonsillectomies and appendectomies she does on those days after too. Surgeries she can do in her sleep, but surgeries where she feels a sense of security.

She doesn't see Dr. Pierce again for a week. That doesn't mean she hasn't thought about her though. That doesn't mean she hasn't tried to push down the memories of whatever that strange stirring was when she was close to her. That doesn't mean she hasn't let this sort of anxiety build up inside of her, about seeing her again.

It's not an accident, when they see each other again. This time, it's Dr. Pierce seeking her out. She hasn't come to her office since they were working on the Martinez case together—the _huggin' babies,_ Santana can't help but smile, thinking of Liam—but there she is, standing in the doorway with two cups of coffee, and a bag from the coffee shop.

"Hey." Dr. Pierce leans against the doorframe. "I hadn't seen you in awhile, and I figured I'd bring you a cup of coffee and…"

"See how I'm doing?" Santana bites her lip, feeling her cheeks heat up at the thought of how hard Dr. Pierce had seen her cry. "I'm fine. Totally fine. I'm sorry you had to see me act like that the other night."

"No apologies necessary." She comes into the office and hands the coffee over to Santana. "Americano, black, and a vanilla scone."

"You didn't have to bring me coffee. Or…remember my order."

"It's not that complicated. And, I was there, so I figured it wasn't a big deal. Plus, I wanted to see if you felt like having dinner with me."

"I—huh?" Santana almost spits out her coffee, then kind of wants to crawl under her desk.

"Oh, sorry, are we not at that friendship level?" Dr: Pierce wrinkles her nose, then smoothes her already-crisp white coat. "I just figured…"

"Oh…no. We're totally at that level. I mean, I've been to your house, and celebrated your kid's birthday. Sorry, I'm just distracted, reading this new thing about treating spina bifida in utero. I mean, not my field, but I'm totally fascinated by surgery in utero."

"I haven't seen one in years."

"If you ever get a chance, get a seat in the gallery for one of Dr. Holiday's. She's seriously one of the best in the world, and she makes it look _easy._ "

"I'll keep that in mind. I do always love watching a really good surgery."

"Um…" Santana pauses and takes a breath. Why she's acting so weird, she really has no idea. Maybe it's because she never really has dinner with her friends, or maybe because she'd been having weird non-friendly thoughts about Dr. Pierce, but she needs to stop. "So you wanted to have dinner?"

"If you want. I don't usually have a free night, but I was down in North Carolina for a conference until late last night, and my mom isn't bringing Liam back from Boston until tomorrow."

"Ooh, hot night out then." Santana teases. "I'll bring the drugs and the strippers."

"I was thinking more like Indian food."

" _Equally_ as risky. Alright, let's do it. I know a great place a few blocks from here."

Santana decides that she's the most awkward person there ever was. And that's saying a lot, considering she regularly has patients between the ages of nine and fifteen, the universally accepted "awkward years." But she really is. She's so used to eating from takeout containers, either at her desk, or on her couch at home, that she basically forgets how to behave in a restaurant. She wonders if she was like this on that horrible blind date a few weeks back. Probably. Not that she cares.

She spills water on herself about three minutes into dinner, and once she starts on the wine, that doesn't make things any better. She probably should have just changed into her scrubs before going out, because Dr. Pierce teasingly points out the trail of vindaloo sauce on her chin, and all down the front of her blouse. It's a _really_ good thing this isn't a date, because she actually enjoys Dr. Pierce's company, and the fact that their just friends makes her awful awkwardness a little more acceptable.

"You were right, this place is really good." Dr. Pierce wipes her face with her napkin and grins. "I'm going to have to try and convince Liam to try it. We need to start branching out from Johnny Rocket and buttered noodles at Fratelli."

"Is it hard, doing it on your own?"

"Yes and no." She shrugs. "It definitely isn't what I expected to be doing right now, but I'd rather do it on my own, than do it with someone whose heart isn't in it."

"Your ex?"

"Yeah." Dr. Pierce sucks her lips into her mouth, and her face tightens. "We'd never planned to have children. Or, rather, _she_ never planned to have children, and I went along with it. But then I ended up with Liam, and she wasn't going to end our engagement, but she made it clear that he'd be my…problem."

"Well that's a pretty fucked up way to go into a marriage."

"Exactly, which is why I didn't. I wasn't going to raise him like that. My sister would have hated it. She obviously didn't pick me as his guardian thinking something would happen to her, but, she knew if it did, her son would be in a loving home. The day I went from _Aunt B_ to _Mama,_ I shifted every priority I had."

"Were…you adopted too?" Santana chances, though she's pretty sure if the roles were reversed, she'd have told someone to mind their own damn business.

"Because of my dad? No. My mom was pregnant when she married him, whirlwind romance and all that. He never treated me any different than my sister."

"Like I imagine it would be for you, if you ever had children."

"Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I'm pushing forty, so the odds of that happening are slim." Dr. Pierce chuckles and tucks her hair behind her ear.

"You never know, you might meet some hot younger woman who sweeps you off your feet and wants to have your babies."

There's a pause, a look, and the waiter approaching with the check cuts off the conversation. Without missing a beat, Dr. Pierce pulls out her credit card, at the same time Santana reaches for the check.

"I asked you to dinner, and you showed me this place, so it's my treat, as a thank you for saving me from Kraft Mac and Cheese tonight."

"I'm sure you'd have found _someone_ to go out with you." Santana rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, maybe if I drove to Boston, where all my friends are."

"Ah, so I see how it is, I'm the consolation prize."

"No." She slips her card into the check wallet, and quickly passes it to the waiter. "Just because you happen to by my first friend here, definitely doesn't make you a consolation."

"Um…" Santana looks away, because Dr. Pierce's blue eyes are a lot for her to handle. "So you feel like getting ice cream? As long as _that_ is my treat."

"Yeah, ice cream sounds good."

They walk, mostly quiet, to Haagen Dazs around the block, and then, ice cream cones in hand, they start walk back to the hospital to Dr. Pierce's car. She's insistent upon driving Santana home, and Santana has had just enough wine that she won't take a cab simply to avoid inconveniencing anyone.

"Nice building." Dr. Pierce compliments, when she pulls up in front. "I actually looked here, when we were moving."

"Really?" Santana scrunches her nose.

"Yeah, a pool, a children's room, a gym I liked that."

"I've never used any of it."

"I'm not surprised. I mean, this _is_ your second home."

"Huh?"

"Sorry, bad joke. I meant because you mostly live at the hospital."

"Oh, yeah, that's true." She laughs. "It's a nice building though. I'd choose it as my first home too."

"It was close, but my sister and I grew up in a brownstone in Boston, and we loved it. I wanted the same for Liam…"

"That's fair." Santana looks at Brittany for a moment, then fiddles with her bag. "Well, thanks for dinner, and for taking me home."

"Thanks for coming, really." She leans in to hug Santana, and Santana's stomach drops as she feels eyes on her lips. Dr. Pierce doesn't kiss her though, she just brushes cheeks, the way _friends_ say goodbye. Still though, it's a lot, and Santana just about bolts out of the car, sparing a quick wave over her shoulder, before getting upstairs as fast as humanly possible. away from Dr. Pierce, and _further_ away from that uncomfortably twisting in her stomach.


	16. Chapter 16

Santana gets drunk. Not even just drunk, but, absolutely obliterated. It's a good thing she's off the next day, because it's dark out, by the time she manages to crawl out of her bed-cave. She swears she's never drinking again, as she hurls up bourbon and the tortilla chips she'd eaten at three AM. She swears there are better ways to deal with herself when she's feeling things she doesn't want to feel.

For the next week, Santana actively avoids Dr. Pierce. She dusts off the Keurig that she bought herself a year ago, to prove to Kurt that she's not a coffee snob, and she makes coffee in her office. She avoids on-call rooms and elevators. She just needs some time to process what happened when she and Dr. Pierce went on what was, if she squinted really hard, kind of a date. She needs some time to process that they kind-of, sort-of possibly came really close to an almost kiss. Or at least, time to process that she might actually have some real issues, and this could all be in her head.

Even though she's not drinking—a whole week, she's kept her vow—Santana ends up in the bar every night. Dave doesn't drink much anyway, so when he meets Kurt there after work, Santana cajoles him into being her darts partner, and they leave Kurt and Mercedes at the bar. Obviously, her surgical precision and Dave's sports prowess means they always win. It's the small victories, really, and whooping and high fiving Dave means less time thinking about the crease at the corner of Dr. Pierce, mouth and less time being pissed at herself _for_ thinking about it.

Of course, because of Murphy's Law, or karma, or _something_ that Santana repeatedly tells herself she doesn't believe in, Santana gets paged to the pit on one of those nights Dr. Pierce is running it. She still hasn't figured out exactly _why_ she doesn't just pawn that duty off to a resident, but if she's learned anything from Dr. Pierce, it's that she's constantly doing something surprising.

"Dr. Lopez." Dr. Pierce doesn't call her by her first name, and she immediately gets her head in the game—and away from thought of that stupid crease—when she realizes she means business. "I've got an eighteen month old male, swallowed ball-shaped magnets."

"You have the scans for me?"

"Here." She hands over the chart, and Santana, just for a second, imagines the kind of panic that a doctor who's also a mother feels when she sees these cases. "Looks like five on the scan, but the mother says there's a possibility he may have eaten more."

"Shit. You've got an intern on him?"

"Hayward, she's over there now, bed eight."

"Good." Santana nods, jolting, as she realizes Dr. Pierce's fingers are still touching her own on the back of the clipboard. "I like Hayward."

"Who doesn't?"

"Probably Anderson, he prefers the idiots."

"There's a reason I stay away from the tenth floor." Dr. Pierce winks, making Santana flush. She's got to get a grip on this…whatever she's got going on inside. _Clearly,_ avoiding Dr. Pierce won't work—and truthfully, she doesn't _want_ to—but she needs to figure something out.

"Uh, well, let me go scope this kid. Do you know if Hayward told the parents we might have to open him up?"

"Not for a fact, but knowing her…"

"…they've got the whole treatment plan."

Clutching the chart to her chest, Santana spares Dr. Pierce one last glance, before heading over to bed eight. Magnets suck. Seriously, she wishes everyone would just lock them up, like they do bleach and knives. She's taken too many of them out of stomachs in her time. The problem is, they're drawn to each other. The problem is, no matter what's between them, they'll find away to each other, no matter what destruction they cause in the process. Magnets are dangerous, and she only hopes that they got this kid to the hospital before there's any sort of perforation.

"Hi there." She approaches the bed, giving her softest, sweetest smile to the toddler clinging to his mother. "I'm Dr. Lopez, I heard _someone's_ got a belly full of something not so fun."

"I swear, I only looked away for a minute. He got into his sister's science kit, and—" The mother chokes back a sob.

"Hey." Hayward puts a calming hand on her arm. "Remember what we talked about? Accidents happen, and you're in the right place. Dr. Lopez is the best surgeon."

"I thought you said _you_ were going to do the, uh, endoscopy?"

"I, um, didn't—" Hayward looks frantically at Santana, torn between appeasing the patient, and not getting herself in trouble.

"It's your lucky day." Santana steps in. "You get two for the price of one. Dr. Hayward will be in there with me the whole time. Now, you've already been told that this might require surgical intervention?"

Jane Hayward, of course, already has a stack of signed consent forms, and Santana makes a note to try and get her on her service more often. Though she's only in her first year of internship, Santana knows, especially judging by the way she calms down both the mother _and_ the toddler, when they take him into the OR, that she'd make an exceptional peds fellow. She knows Shelby would agree, and she knows that she'll actively try and recruit her, even more than Santana can. But she knows they won't be alone in their thinking. An intern as competent as Hayward is a rare thing, and if she keeps it up, she'll have her pick if fields not only in this hospital, but in dozens of others.

She lets Hayward do they endoscopy, and she curses when they're only able to remove three. That's never good, and with the scans at least a half-hour old, Santana is mostly concerned that they've traveled into his intestines. Has she mentioned that she hates magnets? They're unpredictable. They don't follow a set path. They just make their own, and they're the worst sort of foreign object for someone to swallow.

Once she sends Hayward to tell the parents that they're going to open their son up, she lets her make the first incision. It sucks, this kind of surgery, but luckily, even with finding _five_ more magnets inside, after running the whole of his intestines, there's no perforation. Once he's closed back up and sent off to recovery, Santana debates between making coffee in her office, or going straight for a nap.

The need for coffee wins out—it always does—and Santana plugs in the machine, then waits patiently for it to work. Honestly, she hates it. She hates the way it sputters and spits hot liquid on her desk. She hates the _taste_ of it, but she'll make do. She'll make do, because the alternative isn't great. The alternative is weird electric touches, and thinking about kissing Dr. Pierce. The alternative is dangerous, and she won't, she _can't_ do it.

A knock on the door breaks Santana from her thoughts, and when she looks up, there's Dr. Pierce. She's holding a cup of coffee, apparently from Starbucks, since it's the only place other than the cafeteria that's open all night, and she's pulled her hair up, a contrast to how it was a few hours ago, falling on her shoulders. Santana hates that she noticed that. She hates that she notices _so_ many things about Dr. Pierce. Thinking about it, she scowls.

"Wow, that unhappy to see me?"

"Huh?" Santana bites her lip, and rakes her hand through her hair. "No, uh, sorry. Guess I'm just hitting the delirious hour."

"I don't think I'll _ever_ get used to the hours between three and five. This is my fourth cup of coffee."

"If I hadn't been in surgery until a half hour ago, I'd be right there with you." She holds up her mug, then takes a long sip. Not for effect, but because she _really_ needs it. "How's the pit?"

"Quiet. Calm before the next storm, I'm sure, so I'm taking a break. Figured I'd come up and see how the surgery went?"

"You check on every emergency surgery that happens while you're running the show?"

"I…no, I don't." Dr. Pierce flushes, and Santana immediately feels bad for her tone.

"Sorry." She mumbles.

"Did I do something to upset you? I mean, I figured that if I did, you'd be the first person who'd tell me. You've never hesitated in the past."

"No. You didn't."

"Okay." Dr. Pierce nods, stepping closer, to perch on the edge of Santana's desk. "I guess I was making something out of nothing then. I thought you were avoiding me."

"No." Santana lies, looking into her mug. "Just been busy. Summer, and stuff."

"Summer, right." She nods, as if Santana's lie made any sort of actual sense. "Well, Liam's been asking about you. I told him I'd see if you wanted to have dinner with us soon. We've got the outside space, and he's all about me grilling hot dogs…"

"Oh." Everything inside of Santana screams out for her to say no, screams out for her to continue her wholly successful tactic of avoidance, she can't bring herself to look in this woman's eyes and do it. She can't bring herself to disappoint her, or, especially, to disappoint that little boy. She can't fight this _draw_ she has toward them. "So, when we're you thinking?"

"Well, after tonight, I've got three days off. So anytime them…or next week, whenever you feel like it."

"Okay, well I'm off Wednesday."

"Wednesday it is then. How do you like your hotdogs?"


	17. Chapter 17

Wednesday comes. Santana is a wreck. She considers cancelling all morning. Then she considers drinking all afternoon. She's being ridiculous. It's Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany,_ what's the big deal? Right, the big deal is that it's Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany,_ and she's feeling all kinds of things that she's not supposed to feel. Friends don't feel like this for each other, _she_ doesn't feel like this ever. She doesn't let anyone too close, she doesn't let anyone see her for all that she really is.

She doesn't cancel. She doesn't drink. She doesn't cancel because of that little boy, who's waiting for her to come over. She doesn't drink, because showing up drunk at five-pm to a place where there's a child seems reckless and irresponsible. She _does,_ however, pick up two bottles of wine—a red and a white, since she doesn't know which Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany,_ drinks—and cupcakes. All kids like cupcakes, right? The long-term patients on her floor certainly do. She thinks that's the only thing that they like more than beads.

It's 4:49 when she gets to the brownstone. It's too early, she decides, so she walks around the block once, twice, three times, until it's 5:01. A minute late seems far more acceptable than a minute early, even if she _is_ dripping sweat from the late summer heat. Again, standing on the doorstep, she considers having her head checked. Brain ailments present themselves in strange ways. Perhaps her strange way is acting like this in front of Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany._ She's really concerned. Maybe she should leave immediately for the hospital. Someone there can give her a neuro consult.

Before she can turn and run though, a little face peeks through the window. _Doccer Santana!_ she can read on his mouth, _Doccer Santana! Doccer Santana! Hi!_ The neuro consult will have to wait. She's not _heartless,_ she won't turn her back on an excited kid.

Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany,_ opens the door, and Santana hears a whoop of excitement, followed by a tiny arm wrapping around her waist. She takes a breath, then another, then another. What is _wrong_ with her? Why does dinner feel like an endeavor? She went through _medical school_ for God's sake. She went through internship, residency, one of the most grueling pediatric surgery internships in the country. Surely, she can get through eating a hotdog.

"Doccer Santana! Doccer Santana! I makeded you a pitcher! Come see! Come see!"

"Sorry." Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany,_ mouths. "He's really excited."

"All good." Santana shrugs. "Uh, do you mind taking this stuff though?"

"You didn't have to bring anything." She smiles a little. "Definitely not wine, I've got plenty of that here."

"I mean, I didn't want to show up empty handed, so…" Her sentence trails off, as she allows herself to be lead through the entryway and into the living room, where chubby crayons are strewn about the coffee table, and paper after paper of scribbled drawing litters the floor.

"This-a one is for you! Okey?" Liam reaches with his left hand, and plucks a yellow and pink one from the disarray. "I's a huggin' babies, see?"

"You really like those hugging babies, huh, sir?"

"I not a _sir,_ I a Liam! A Liam Con-a-wee Pierce!"

"Liam Connolly Pierce, huh? That's a long name for a short guy." Santana teases, and the little boy just giggles and giggles, like she's the funniest thing in the world.

"You like it? You like my pitcher?"

"I love it." She kneels down, tracing the colored lines with her hands. "Can I take it home with me?"

"Yes! Yes you can! Mama say that's why I give it!"

"Well I'm pretty lucky then, aren't I?"

"No, we lucky! Mama say you a _very_ busy doccer, an'we lucky you comed to eat hotdogs!"

"Mama said that, huh?" Inexplicably, Santana feels that damn heat creeping up the back of her neck again, and the sound of Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany's_ voice nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

"Mama said what?"

"I's tellin' Doccer Santana that we lucky!"

"Well, Li, I think you're gonna feel even _more_ lucky, when you see that Santana brought cupcakes too."

"You _did?_ " His better eye goes wide, and then his whole face lights up with excitement. "You did? You did?"

"I did." She can't help but smile, and when he jumps on her to hug her, she can't help but squeeze him tightly back either. "I figured you might like them."

As it turns out for Santana, watching Dr. Pierce, no, _Brittany_ make dinner becomes problematic. It's not her fault, really. Is there _anyone_ who doesn't find a good looking woman in a tank top and shorts leaning over a barbecue incredibly attractive? She gulps her wine to deal with it—and is met with a giggle and a _Mama say we needs to drinked it slow!_ from Liam—but really, she's a goner, and she knows it.

Somehow, after hotdogs and cupcakes—and a lot of wine, for Santana—Liam convinces her to read him his stories before bed. She wants to turn him down gently, tell him she's sure his Mama would love to read to him instead, make her exit from this torturous dinner where she just cannot physically stop looking at _Brittany,_ but she finds herself nodding. She finds herself being led up the stairs to his bedroom, painted with the train map from New York to Boston, and covered in old railroad memorabilia. She finds herself sitting on the edge of his blue and white striped bed, and waiting for him to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth. She finds herself reading _The Goodnight Train,_ and watching _Brittany_ kiss his forehead after he fall asleep. And then, then Santana finds herself following her back downstairs, and letting her pour another glass of wine.

 _Brittany_ locks the back door, while Santana sits down on the couch, leaning into the soft pillows as she slowly sips her wine. She feels a shift in the air in the room, when Brittany comes back in, and she sucks in as much of it as she can. She's going to need it, she thinks. The wine has her head swimming, but the air, the air will…somehow make her brain function properly. At least she hopes.

"So, Liam's really into trains." Santana speaks the obvious, because it's easier to fill the space, easier to force words into it, than to let it hang there empty.

"Yeah, I pushed it a little, I guess."

"You're really into trains too?"

"No." She shakes her head, and laughs a little. "His dad was a railroad engineer."

"An Irish railroad engineer from Boston? Sounds like a song."

"How did you know he was Irish?" Brittany's brow furrows, and Santana bites her bottom lip.

"I, uh…sorry. I just, um, Liam said his name was _Liam Connolly Pierce,_ and I just figured that maybe that was his…"

"You figured right." Brittany rakes her fingers through long locks, pulling them off her face. Santana is so used to seeing her with her hair pulled back at work, that it's striking to see it all hang loose. "I wanted to make it easier for him, to give him my last name. I mean, he was still an _infant,_ even by the time the adoption was finalized. But I wasn't just going to erase his past."

"I'm really impressed by you." Santana expects the heat on her neck again at that admission, but it doesn't come. Maybe it's the wine. Maybe it's something else. She doesn't know, she just know it's the truth.

"Anyone would have done the same thing."

"No, they wouldn't have. You're selling yourself short."

"Would you?" Her eyes are serious when she asks, and Santana is captivated by them.

"I'm an only child." She shrugs, but she can't tear herself from Brittany's question. "I don't think there's anyone in the world who loves me enough to give me their baby. But…if there were, I'd like to think I'd do what you did. That doesn't make it any less admirable though."

"Thank you." Brittany's voice is soft, and Santana's eyes go to her lips. There's so little space between them, and yet so much. "I love him, I'd never take back the choices I made."

"He loves you too. You're his favorite person, it's obvious."

"He doesn't know many people yet." Brittany laughs again, and it's Santana's turn to be serious.

"This is a weird thing you're doing."

"What?"

"Just, I don't know, being weird about it, I guess."

"I'm not." She takes another sip of her wine, then stands up. "I'm going to get another cupcake. Do you want one?"

"I don't want to overstay my welcome." Santana swirls her glass, but makes no effort to move.

"If you were I wouldn't have offered you more food. I like the company…the adult company."

"Okay, then yeah. I'll take another cupcake."

"And more wine?"

"Sure, why not? At this point, what's one more?"

As Brittany walks toward the kitchen, Santana watches her. This all feels too safe, too comfortable, too…unsettling. But she can't tear herself away. Maybe she's a glutton for punishment. Maybe she's playing with fire. But there's something holds her back from leaving, something pushes her far past the boundaries she'd drawn for herself before coming over.

They're quiet, as they eat the cupcakes. Santana savors the sugar in her mouth, followed by the bitter acidity of the wine, and she tries to ignore the heat she feels radiating from Brittany's bare leg, just inches away from her own. She tries to ignore it, but that doesn't mean it isn't there.

"You got…" Brittany gives her a cockeyed smile, then lifts her hand up to Santana's face, letting her thumb brush away chocolate frosting. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

Santana feels her heart pounding in her ears. She hears alarm bells blaring in her mind. But she doesn't pull away from the warm hand on her cheek. And Brittany doesn't retract it either. They just sit there, frozen, in this moment. They just sit there, until Santana sees Brittany's eyes go to her lips. They just sit there, until Santana is the one who loses every last ounce of carefully crafted control. The just sit there, until their lips meet, and Santana opens her mouth, seeking, seeking something she's never sought before.


	18. Chapter 18

Santana can't stop. She's free falling into some sort of oblivion, and there's nothing to grab onto. It's all Brittany. The thump in her chest, the rushing in her ears, the pinch between her thighs, and the drop in her stomach, it's Brittany. Her hand finds her way into those long blonde locks, and she pulls her closer. The softness of lips, the brush of a nose, the curl of a tongue, it quiets her noisy mind. It makes her hear _silence,_ for the first time.

It's unlike any kiss Santana's ever had, and, particularly, it's unlike any _first_ kiss. It's not an unsure peck. It's not an explicit precursor to anything. It's not over as abruptly as it started. It turns into a second kiss, a third kiss, a fourth, with no end in sight.

But then, then it all ends as quickly as it started. Santana's shirt rides up, exposing her stomach, she feels blunt nails gently scratch the skin there. The sensation sends her crashing back to reality, and she pulls back, tugging down her top, and trying to catch her breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Brittany trails off, pulling her swollen lower lip between her teeth, and rapidly blinking her eyes.

"I…I should go. I can't… I need to go home."

"Santana." Brittany tries, but Santana is already standing up, still smoothing her shirt. The impact of the wine she'd drank hits her again, and the panic in her chest begins to burn.

"Thank you for dinner."

She can't look back at Brittany's face as she leaves. On top of everything else that swirls through her addled mind, she feels terrible for running away. But she can't help herself. She just…can't. She shouldn't have kissed Brittany. She shouldn't even have let it got _close_ to that. This is all her fault, and she can't get a cab home fast enough.

In her apartment, she paces the floors. She considers calling Kurt. Then after she vetoes that idea, she considers calling Mercedes. She vetoes that too. She doesn't want to talk to anyone. She wants to disappear. She kissed Dr. Brittany Pierce. She kissed her, and _worse,_ she _enjoyed it._ But enjoyment or not, that doesn't matter. She can't do this. She can't feel this. She just… _can't._

In her futile effort to disappear, she buries herself beneath her blankets. She doesn't even get undressed. She doesn't even brush her teeth. She just pulls the cool white duvet over her head and stares at the blankness above her. She always thinks that must be what it feels like to disappear. A vague sort of pressure, and whiteness all around. She's done this all her life, hidden beneath the covers. It's always been a safe place for her, away from all of the things she can't handle, from all the things that mess her up inside. So she does it now. She does it now, except this this time, when she closes her eyes, she tastes Brittany on her lips. She tastes mint and red wine, and this time, she just can't seem to disappear.

She doesn't sleep. By the time she gets to the hospital on Thursday night, she feels like absolute shit. Physically, emotionally, everything. Overnights suck for her when she's like this, because she doesn't have surgeries scheduled to distract her. She feels like a horrible human for scoping out the pit, waiting for something to fall into her lap. Then again, she felt like a horrible person before that. Because of Brittany, and because of the thirty-something years that preceded last night.

By the time the night is over, she's done twelve different sets of sutures. She's removed a ruptured appendix. She's assisted on a particularly nasty shattered femur, the result of a car accident on the West Side Highway. Still though, even exhausted, when she leaves at seven-am, her mind can't quiet down. Her mind doesn't let her rest with ease.

She avoids socializing for the next two days. She doesn't even turn her phone on. She just sticks to her pager, sticks to burying herself in work, sticks to pretending she's not running. It sucks. It sucks so much that every moment where she's not running a bowel, or removing a tumor from a tiny heart, or talking to parents about their options for their sick child, she's thinking about what it felt like when Dr. Brittany Pierce's lips were pressed to her own. This isn't her. Her concerns should be with her patients. Her concerns should be with _children,_ who have _real_ problems. They should _not_ be with figuring out how to avoid her _friend,_ who she may or may not have unwanted feelings for.

It happens on Sunday. Unlike so many of their encounters, it's not an accident. Santana is nearing the end of her shift, and she's laying in an on-call room. She swears, she hasn't slept since Tuesday. _Before._ She lays there, anyway. She pretends like she's not thinking about Brittany's soft hair between her fingers, about the rush of blood in every pore of her body, about _any_ of it. But of course she is. It was the best kiss—or series of kisses—in her life, and she hates that even more. She hates that she wants her. She hates that she'll never be good enough for her.

She hears the door open, then click closed, and she can't help but groan audibly. She hates when she's not alone in there. She hates the vulnerability that comes with the thought that someone might be watching her sleep—or, not sleep, as it may be. For the thousandth time since she got her own office, she thinks again how she should get a pullout couch, or a rollaway bed. Maybe she could just hide an on-call bed in her closet. Do _something_ that assures her of privacy.

"Santana?" The soft whisper makes her heart pound so hard, that she's sure it's going to come right through her ribs. Her body jerks upwards, and she scrubs her face with her hands. "Sorry, Dr. Rose told me you were in here, and also that you never sleep."

"Hope you like charts, Rose." Santana mutters, making a futile effort to pull her tangled curls into some semblance of neatness. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I was concerned." Her fingers fiddle with the hospital ID clipped to the jacket of her white coat. "And I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize for what?"

"Honestly?" Brittany sighs, with a slight shake of her head. "I don't really know. Kissing you back, I guess. Making you feel uncomfortable? Whatever it is I did that made you pull away from me and run out the door."

"Why do you have to _be_ like this?"

"Be like what?" She's taken a back, and Santana resumes scrubbing her face with her hands. "I'm not doing anything."

"You are! You're always doing this thing." Santana waves her hands frantically in the air. "Where you're like…nice?"

"I'm always doing this thing where I'm _nice?_ "

"Don't make it sound so ridiculous." Santana crosses her arms over her chest. "I'm being serious about it."

"Why _wouldn't_ I be nice to you? We're friends, and, I'd say judging by the other night, you know that I have more than just friendly feelings for you."

"I don't deserve the kindness. How many times have I been a jerk to you? And now I kissed you, and you're the one apologizing like you did something wrong. I'm sorry that I did it, when I know it can't go anywhere. I _can't_ do this."

"Can't do what? That's what I'm just so confused about. If you don't have feelings back for me, that's fine, we can still be friends. I like being around you."

"I—" Santana tries to lie. Santana tries to tell Brittany that she doesn't have feelings for her. A lie would make it easy. A lie would keep her safe. But she can't. She just can't make herself do it. She sinks back down onto the bed, and she puts her head in her hands. "It's not that. Not at all."

"So then do I get to ask what it is?" Brittany takes down her hair, then puts it back up, clearly trying to find something to do with her hands. "Why you _can't?_ "

"Because I just can't, alright?" Defensiveness rises in Santana's chest, and she feels herself getting increasingly frustrated with her emotions, with her complete inability to function normally. "I don't deserve you, with your kindness, and your neat little life. You've got a kid, and you're all but together, and no matter what kind of feelings I have for you, all I'm going to add to that is a mess."

"Santana, I really doub—"

"Don't." She shakes her head, and raises up her hand. "You don't know."

"So tell me. Tell me what I don't know. Let _me_ decide if I want you in my life or not. I like you, Santana. I like you a _lot,_ _and I'm not asking you to marry me or anything. I'm just asking to get to know you more. I don't let just anyone in my life, or Liam's, but there's something special about you. I can't put my finger on it, but I'm drawn to you."_

"Fucking magnets." Santana kicks her heel against the leg of the bed, and winces in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm just fine." She stands up again. She pulls on her hair again. She wipes her hands on her scrub pants. She wants to do this, but she doesn't know how. She wants to do this, but she doesn't deserve it. She wants to do it, but she _can't._

"I won't corner you again. But I really hope you think about what I said. If you want to talk, you know where to find me." Brittany leans forward, just a little, as if she's going to kiss Santana. Santana's heart rate quickens, but she doesn't do it. She steps back, and before Santana can attempt another word, Brittany walks out the door.


	19. Chapter 19

It's impossible to sleep. Santana has decided that she's going to just give it up all together. Instead of laying in her bed and thinking about Brittany and what she'd said, Santana comes home from the hospital, and sits up reading a study about organ life support. She hates feeling out of control. She hates emotions. That's why she became a doctor, mostly. Because she gets to control things that other people can't, and because the compartmentalization of feelings is an absolutely crucial part of her career path.

At ten-am, she takes an Ambien. If she shows up at the hospital tonight, and looks worse than she does now, Shelby is going to send her home. If she does it again tomorrow, Shelby will threaten her with the Board of Pediatric Surgeons. She won't make good on the threat, but it's enough to scare Santana into forcing sleep. She can't operate without it. She can't _survive_ without it, but yet, she's spent her whole life chasing it. It seems like some sort of riddle, but it's not. It's just reality. Just _her_ reality.

When she wakes up from her eight-hour partial coma, she checks the date. Part of her was hoping that she'd gone back in time. That she was back in the morning of the day where she was trapped in the elevator with a gorgeous blonde Doctor. Part of her would have taken the stairs instead. But the date is still the same as it was when she went to bed, and the other part of her, this small, and very, _very_ loud part is so glad for that. That very loud part is screaming for her to let herself feel, let herself be touched by someone she cares about, let herself open up and tell Brittany all there is to tell, show Brittany all there is to show. She _hates_ that part of her, more than anything.

Santana is on a warpath when she gets to work. She feels bad for it, but she can't help herself. The interns beat the brunt of it—they always do—and she tells them to take it as a learning experience. Don't fuck up. Their consequences today are just her words, the consequences when they're on their own are greater. Suspension, revocation of their medical license, or worse, grave bodily injury or death of a patient. They should be grateful for what she's teaching them now. Grateful she doesn't allow them to get away with poor workmanship.

Shockingly, it's Hayward that sends her over the edge, and not for anything she does medically. With the pit quiet, Santana goes to lay down. She's tired, a lingering effect of the Ambien, and though the won't sleep, a pillow and a bed sounds like a good idea. Unfortunately for her, when she opens the door to the on call room on her floor, it's occupied, and not by anyone _sleeping._ The first thing she sees is Hayward's bare back, and she absolutely _loses_ it.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me right now, Hayward?" Santana snaps, and in a frantic effort to cover herself, the intern grabs a pillow from the bed. "Do you think this is _Grey's Anatomy?_ Do you think you get to get away with hooking up in a public space, while you get _paid?_ "

"Dr. Lopez, I—" Her eyes are wide with panic, and Santana pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Save it. I've already had the misfortune of seeing your bare ass, I don't need to add hearing your bullshit on top of it. And you—" She points at the mostly-dressed girl, who wipes her hands on pink scrub bottoms and barely bothers to hide her smirk. "Who are _you?_ "

"Sugar Motta, dermatology." She extends her hand, and Santana wrinkles her nose in disgust, before grabbing hold of her ID.

"Who's your resident?"

"Uh…Dr. Lynn."

"So help me God, I catch you on my floor, hooking up with a surgical intern in my on call room again, I'll meet with him, Dr. Martinez, and the head of the whole goddamn hospital to have you _fired_ for poor conduct. I'm letting you off with _my_ warning tonight, so consider yourself _damn_ lucky."

"Dr. Lopez." Hayward tries again, as Motta scurries like a rat to the elevator.

"I said _save it._ Get dressed, take every goddamn sheet in this room down to the laundry, and then go down to the pit, and don't let me see you again for a week. You're off this service until you prove that you take it seriously."

"I do ta—"

"So seriously that your getting screwed by someone in derm, while I was hoping to actually _train_ you. Doesn't add up, Hayward."

Without another word, Santana turns and leaves her standing there. Maybe someone else would let them get away that, maybe _she_ would, on a better night, but right now, the _last_ thing she needs is to see two women having sex. The _last_ thing she needs is to imagine her and _Brittany_ having sex. The _last_ thing she needs is to feel even the smallest bit turned on. She needs rational thoughts. She needs self-preservation. She needs to fucking breathe.

Locking the door to her office, Santana lays down on the couch. She really needs that damn pullout. She wonders how comfortable of one she could realistically get. She wonders how soon one could come. She wonders if Shelby would be pissed about it if she did. Probably not. Though Shelby never works overnights anymore, Santana is _sure_ she remembers what it's like, and _sure_ she'd understand why she wants to sleep in her own space.

Of course, all the thoughts about pullout couches are just noise for her mind. Nothingness to cover up the sound if the last words Brittany said to her. _If you want to talk, you know where to find me._ The more she thinks about it, the more frustrated she gets. The more she thinks about it, the more she wants to barge into Brittany's office the moment she walks in for the day, and tell her _exactly_ why they can't be together. Exactly why she's just not good enough for her, or to have in the life of that little boy. The more she thinks about it, the more she checks her pager and finds nothing to do to distract her, the more that feels like a good idea.

At 5:45, Santana does a spenectomy on a twelve year old girl. By the time she's done, she can probably go home. But when she looks at the time, she knows that Brittany will be in soon. She's tired, so tired, and now, her ridiculous idea seems even more sound. She's going to put and end to this once and for all. She's going to make Brittany know just why they can be friends and nothing more. She's going to make her know why she's too damaged, too stunted, to ever have anything worthwhile.

Santana stalks down the hall, and then the stairs, glaring, when she sees Hayward. She'll take her back on her service sooner than she would anyone else for a similar transgression, but she wants to scare her. She wants the word to spread that the goddamn on call rooms aren't for sexual escapades. They're for her, and for every other doctor who works ninety hours a week to _sleep in._ She may be on a warpath today, but certain things, she feels strongly about. Certain things, she'll let the interns know, no matter _what_ her mood is.

When she gets to Brittany's office, the light is on, and she sits at her desk. Of course, even at seven-am, Brittany is flawless. Her hair is pulled back in a tight knot, and her blue button down lacks a single wrinkle. Over the black rims of her glasses, Brittany looks up from her computer at Santana. Without an invitation, Santana steps into the office, closing the door behind her.

"You want to know why this is a terrible idea?"

"Good morning to you too, Dr. Lopez."

"You're driving me absolutely insane. You're under my skin, and I hate it." Santana huffs. "I don't _do_ feelings."

"Yeah, you've made that pretty clear." Brittany arches an eyebrow, and takes her glasses off. "I wasn't aware that feelings were something you could control though."

"Ugh! You're so frustrating! You're being so patronizing."

"No, I'm actually not at all. I'm just being honest, and I'm tying to figure out why you obviously _have_ some sort of feelings, but you refuse to allow us to talk about that."

"Because I can't, Brittany. I'm incapable of having a relationship. I'm incapable of being good for anyone. There's nothing I have to offer that you can't find better from someone else."

"Who did this to you? Who made you feel like this?"

"How far you wanna go back?" Santana mutters, swallowing the lump in her throat that forms whenever she thinks about every single thing that made her who she is today. "Actually, it doesn't matter how far you go. It's all one person."

"I…could probably guess." Brittany looks at her, looks too far into her, that it makes her squirm.

"Yeah, well, we could just start with he wanted a son. Or we could start with the fact that after me, my mother couldn't have more children. We could start with me being a disappointment in every way possible, for as long as I can remember. Too tom-boyish, too mouthy, too opinionated. Or, you know what, we could just cut to the chase. We could start with _this._ " Santana pulls the hem of her scrub top, and before Brittany can stop her, she yanks it up over her head. Her deepest fear, someone seeing the mangled purple lines, the lump, the damaged nipple, still there, even after having her implants taken out. She reveals it, because she needs Brittany to leave. She needs Brittany to stop making her feel things. If she leaves now, she can't leave later, when she realizes just how fucked up Santana is. "There you go, there's your explanation for two things. Why I just fucking _can't,_ and why I hate plastic surgeons. It's right there, all in one seriously fucked up job on my tits."

"Santana."

"You see this? This is the kind of fucked up I come from. The kind of father who berated me my whole life, and convinced me I needed them done in the first place, and who didn't want to hear it after his buddy basically _butchered_ me, before I even started my junior year of high school. The kind of father who emotionally beat my mother down so badly that she couldn't say a damn word to him, and it took her _twenty-five_ years to feel like she could leave him. The kind of father who, after I came out, only agreed to pay for me to go to college if I promised him it'd be for medicine, and then stopped talking to me the day he realized I wasn't going to be the kind of surgeon _he_ wanted me to be. You know what that kind of shit does to you? The constant inadequacy? It makes you question every single breath you take. So I can't do this, because I can't make someone else take on these damaged goods. _Especially_ not someone who already has enough on her plate."

"Santana." Brittany gets up, and she closes the gap between them. Gently, she pulls down Santana's top, reminding her that she basically just _flashed_ Brittany. Gently, she presses her thumbs to Santana's cheeks, wiping away tears she didn't even realize had started to fall. "Oh, Santana."

"Brittany, _please._ " She squirms, trying to escape from the feelings inside of her. Trying to make herself run. But Brittany engulfs her in a hug. Brittany holds her slackened body. Brittany's just there. "Why are you _like_ this?"

"Because you deserve kindness, Santana. No matter what anyone has ever told you."


	20. Chapter 20

Much to her own surprise, Santana doesn't pull away from Brittany. She remains there, locked in a tight embrace. Locked in something that would ordinarily make her feel so wholly trapped. But this time, it doesn't. This time, she feels like if she lets go, the entire world will collapse around her. It's a horribly vulnerable feeling, especially for someone like Santana Lopez, but she's opened herself up to this vulnerability, and now, now she has no power to escape it.

"I should go to bed." Santana murmurs, finally, into Brittany's shoulder. It's covered in the dampness of her tears, and probably her snot, and she feels heat creep to her neck.

"You should." Brittany agrees, though she makes no effort to let her go. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"You're at _work,_ and I've already inconvenienced you enough." She shakes her head, her body shuddering as she finally detaches herself from the embrace.

"You haven't, and you wouldn't if I brought you home."

"I came in here yelling, and taking my top off. That's hardly a normal day at the office." Santana chokes out an embarrassed laugh, and tries to fix her scrub top. "I'm going to get an Uber. It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure." She nods. "I just…need to…"

"Okay, yeah, I understand that." Brittany nods, filling in the unspoken words. "Are you here tonight?"

"I'm off. I'm going back to days on Sunday. This fucked up schedule I've been working has me losing my mind."

"Do you…want to come by my house later? Maybe we can talk some more?"

"I…" Santana shakes her head, not at Brittany, but at her thoughts. "I don't know. I just…"

"I get it." She nods. "But I'll be home all night, if you want to come by, or call, or anything."

"Okay. Thanks for…" Her words trail off, but she waves her hand around. "Yeah."

Santana goes straight home from Brittany's office. She doesn't even go back up to her own. Her doorman has an extra set of keys, she has her cellphone, there's really nothing else in there that's a necessity right now. She's too damn emotionally drained to deal with running into anyone, honestly.

When she gets up to her apartment, she pulls off her scrub top, and she stands in front of the mirror for a long time. She doesn't know what possessed her to flash Brittany. She doesn't know why she thought it was a good idea to just air all her damn dirty laundry, in an effort to keep her from _having_ to handle her past. She really thinks she needs that brain scan. Everything she's doing is an absolute disaster.

As she stands there staring, she palms her breasts. She feels the weight of her B-cups, a C, before the first surgery, but smaller, now, in the great irony of it all. She runs her thumbs over hard scar tissue, lumping, in places. She pinches the misshapen nipple, and winces in pain. She doesn't tear her eyes away from her personal shame. She doesn't let herself forget the physical manifestation of all the insecurity that is long settled deep inside of her.

She takes a shower, and another Ambien. She pulls down the blackout shades, and she buries herself beneath the covers. She doesn't disappear, not even in her sleep. She doesn't get a reprieve from her noisy mind. She dreams, she dreams too much. The dreams taunt and mock her. The dreams bring her biggest fears to live.

When she wakes up, the sun is setting. She drags herself up out of bed, and she turns on the coffee pot. Maybe she shouldn't drink it. Maybe she should let herself sleep tonight, so her body can adjusts. Maybe she should do a lot of things, but that doesn't mean that she will.

There's no food in the house, there rarely is. She considers calling for takeout, but then she finds a lonely packet of instant oatmeal in the back of the cabinet. She microwaves it, then wrinkles her nose, when she realizes it's blueberry. She _hates_ blueberry, but she eats it anyway.

While she does, she scrolls through the messages on her phone. She sees one from Brittany. _Hey, are you at the hospital?_ It's from last night. She's seen her since then. Everything happened since then. She wonders if she'd send her the same kind of message tonight. She wonders why she'd even _want_ her to. Then she remembers that Brittany told her she could come by. Why would Brittany want that? Why, immediately after remembering it, is she actually considering going?

She waits for awhile. She tries to distract herself, so she doesn't do it. Then, when she resolves to go, she tries to distract herself, so when she does, it's after Liam's bedtime. He's a cute kid, but she doesn't think she has the emotional strength to be around a toddler tonight. She wonders how Brittany does it, when she has bad days. But maybe she never does.

It seven-thirty, she starts walking. She gets halfway to Brittany's, before she realizes that she's still in sweatpants with holes, and an oversized white t-shirt. She looks unkempt, entirely. She considers turning back to go home. But she doesn't. She keeps walking, until she's standing on Brittany's front steps. Unannounced, disheveled, and all around mess. Fitting, she thinks, as she knocks, rather than rings the bell, so not to wake up a sleeping kid.

"Santana." Brittany gives a half smile. She's in her own sweatpants, but somehow, she still manages to look put together. "Hey."

"I shouldn't have come." She blurts out, burying her hands in deep cotton pockets. "Sorry."

"I'm glad you did." Her smile widens this time, and Santana squirms. "Come in."

Every time Santana sits on this couch, she decides, she feels entirely awkward. Brittany leaves her there, as she goes into the kitchen. Santana doesn't know what to do with her hands, so she picks lint from her pants. She doesn't know what to do with her mind, so she stares at the monstrous cat, cleaning himself by the fireplace. She wonders what it would be like to be a cat, to lick your genitals in public, to not feel any shame. She tries to shake off the thought of being envious of a cat, when Brittany comes back in, two beer bottles in her hand.

"Sorry, I'm all out of wine. I meant to stop on the way home today, but Liam fell asleep in the car."

"Oh…I mean, thanks for the beer. You didn't have to get me anything, I'm fine."

"I'd be a terrible hostess if I didn't." She sits down beside Santana, keeping, as Santana notices, a respectable distance.

"I don't think so." Santana shakes her head, avoiding looking in Brittany's eyes. Avoiding, mostly, having to see whatever it is that Brittany thinks about her. "I don't know why I'm here."

"That's okay." Brittany laces her fingers together in her lap, and Santana feels a knot in her stomach, unsure of how Brittany is eyeing her.

"You want to ask, don't you?"

"What? No. I don't want to ask anything you don't want to tell me."

"You're a _doctor,_ Brittany. A plastic surgeon. If you put a baby born with their stomach outside of their body, I'd sure as hell want to ask questions about it."

"You didn't show me your breasts as a surgical patient, Santana." Brittany's tone is dry, and Santana huffs. She doesn't react well to this _calm_ that Brittany exudes. Santana is reactionary, and when there's nothing to react to, she just comes across as raving and hysterical. Fortifying herself, she tilts back her head, and she downs half the beer in a single swallow. "Do _you_ want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay."

"You're the first person who's seen them in fifteen years." Santana murmurs. So apparently she _is_ going to talk about it, as much as she doesn't _want_ to.

"Oh?" Brittany takes a slow sip of her beer. She's so maddening, Santana can hardly handle it.

"When you're a freshman in college and start hooking up with a girl in your physics class, who you have a _massive_ crush on, and she looks like she's going to vomit when you take your shirt off, it's kind of a deterrent." Santana tells her, voice flat and emotionless. "They're disgusting."

"They're scarred." Santana notices Brittany's eyes cast over to a picture of Liam, and she shakes her head.

"It's different. It's totally and completely _different._ "

"Except that it's not."

"God! You're so frustrating!" She finishes the rest of the beer, and puts the bottle down just a little too hard on the table. "He was a _baby._ he didn't do anything to bring it upon himself."

"At the end of the day, a scar is a scar. It doesn't matter how you got it."

Santana closes her eyes. She takes a breath. She tries not to let herself cry, because she thinks maybe, it's the worst thing she could do. She's already proven when a mess she is. She's already cried in Brittany's arms today. She won't do it again. She _can't_ do it again. She shouldn't have come here, she shouldn't have… Her thoughts are broken by a palm on the back of her hand, and when she opens her eyes again, she sees Brittany's, too soft, too caring. In some ways, it's worse than seeing judgement. Judgement, she can walk away from. Judgement, she's known her whole life. Judgement isn't dangerous. But this, this _is._ This is the most dangerous thing she's ever known.

"Not everyone thinks like that."

"You think I don't know that, Santana?" Brittany shakes her head and pitches the bridge of her nose. "But that doesn't change that _I_ do."

"I got an infection." Santana tells her, after several minutes of silence. "My father had gone on and on about what a great surgeon his friend was, and on and on about how much money he'd spent on this _gift_ he gave me. I wasn't an idiot, I knew I wasn't normal to be as red and tender as I was weeks later, and I knew what came out of the incision sites wasn't normal either, but I hid it."

"Santana, you don't have to—"

"I was so damn scared of him." She continues, waving off Brittany. "I figured it would somehow be my fault, so I just tried to wait for it to go away. I—"

Santana has to stop. She has to take a breath. She's too overwhelmed by this. She's been keeping all of this inside for most of her life, and yet, here she is, with this woman she's just getting to know. Here she is, getting weepy, and spilling her darkest secrets. Here she is, entirely unable to stop, no matter how hard she tries.

"My choir teacher found me passed out in the bathroom. I had a hundred-and-five fever, and the whole top half of my body was swollen."

"Spitting?"

"And deep abscesses. Even that damn doctor couldn't get through the swelling without hacking me up. I lost the implants, and half my fucking nipple on a surgery I don't know why I even wanted in the first place."

"I'm sorry." Brittany, with her hand still on top of Santana's, lets her fingers lace through the smaller ones beneath. The sensation jolts Santana, and she looks into her eyes, feeling her breath get stolen away.

"No, _I'm_ sorry. This is the kind of shit I was talking about. The shit you don't need. I'm in my thirties, I've never been in a relationship. I hook up in bar bathrooms. I work too much. I drink too much. I'm as insecure as a thirteen year old. I take sleeping pills. I'm selfish and I'm a _mess._ "

"You save children's lives. You play trains with my son. You lose your mind when you think people don't have the best interests of your patients at heart. You know what good coffee is. You play by the rules, because you think that's the best way to win. You're passionate about anything I've ever had a conversation with you about. You're an amazing kisser. You're the most frustrating person that I've ever met, and yet, I want to talk to you all the time. Your brilliant, you're absolutely _beautiful,_ and the fact that you don't even realize it makes me see it even more."

"This isn't a list making competition." Santana takes her hair out, then puts it back up. She stops looking into Brittany's eyes, but she feels them anyway.

"Then let me win." Brittany leans in, brushing her nose against Santana's.

"Why?" It comes out as a squeak, overwhelmed by her presence. "Why do you want to?"

"Because the prize is _you._ " She whispers. She doesn't take Santana's lips in her own. Santana knows, she wants her to make the decision, to take that step. But she doesn't. Not yet.

"Some prize."

"Yeah, it is some prize. I've made my choice. I think you're worth it. Now you choose. You get to decide, do you believe me?"


	21. Chapter 21

In the movies, at a juncture like this, there's a crackle of electricity between two pairs of lips. There's a singular moment, where one, moved by the words of another, decides to just go for it. In reality, it's not quite like that. Santana hesitates. She feels sweat bead on her neck. She hearts her heart thumping in her ears. She can taste Brittany's breath on her mouth. But above it all, it's her mind that's the most present of all. It's her mind that tries to pull her back. It's her mind that just won't shut up.

They remain like that for a long time, Brittany just a breath away. Santana thinks, in the minutes that pass, that she's memorizing every color in Brittany's eyes. That she's counting every lash. She wants to kiss her so badly, she wants to _believe_ her so badly. But she doesn't, kiss her, at least. The belief thing, that's still up for debate.

Brittany backs away, slowly, hesitantly. Santana almost follows. There's a draw, a _pull,_ as the temptation is taken away from her. There's a pull, as Brittany goes to the kitchen to recycle the empty beer bottles. It's strange, Santana thinks, that the desire to kiss her is stronger when she's _not_ there, than when she is. It's strange, but it doesn't surprise Santana. There's nothing that surprises her when it comes to Brittany. Nothing makes sense, and she hates it. Or, rather, she hates that she loves it.

As she goes to leave, Santana lingers. She second guesses. She turns over the newspaper on the entryway table. She doesn't want to go. She doesn't want to stay. Her brain is obviously misfiring. It can't get the right messages across, and it confuses her.

Even when she's out the door and on her way home, Santana's skin crawls with Brittany, Brittany, Brittany. She'd always associated skin-crawling with chiggers or bedbugs or fleas, but this is an oddly pleasant sensation. This, it seems, is her body's physiological way of working out a solution. Her body's way of analyzing _because the prize is you._ It's way of deciding if she can believe her, if she should open up her heart and risk destruction, or if she should curl in on herself to protect it.

She gets halfway down the block, and she can't bear it any longer. Standing in front of a Jamba Juice, she's faced with the most difficult decision of her life. More difficult than deciding to take her father's blood money for medical school. More difficult than putting aside her fear, and testifying against him in her mother's divorce proceedings. More difficult than walking right past him afterwards, when he snapped her name, and out of his life for good. Her professional choices have always come easy, because her personal ones have been so hard. But this personal choice, this one is impossible. This one is impossible, and yet, there's only one answer.

Santana turns back. That magnetic pull, it's too much to fight. That magnetic pull, like a compass to her true north, draws her back to Brittany's door step. She feels frantic, she feels out of control. Her heart races and races. She thinks it's possible that her misfiring brain will be the least of her problems, when she keels over with a heart attack on brownstone steps.

When she knocks on the door again, it comes close to that. Her hands tingle, her breath is short, and she's slightly convinced she might hurl. Definitive heart attack symptoms. Maybe her body is about to shut it all down, so she doesn't make a grave mistake. Maybe, maybe, maybe, her mind spins, but when the door opens, and Brittany stands before her, it all goes blank.

"Santana—"

She doesn't wait. She can't wait. She can't talk, or hear _Brittany_ talk. Not right now. If they do that, she'll lose all her nerve. If they do that, her mind will start spinning again, and she'll never do it. They can talk later. They can talk for hours, if that's what they have to do. But now, right now, they can't.

Dropping her bag in the door, Santana steps forward. She cups Brittany's cheek in her hand, and she stands on her tip toes. She watches, as Brittany's eyes widen before her, she watches as they flicker down to her lips.

It's not a kiss for the movies. It's not a _foot-popping_ kiss, and it isn't meant to be. Santana takes Brittany's lower lip between her own, and she holds her face as she does so. One hand on each side, she draws her closer. One hand on each side, she makes a promise. She's a mess, of _course_ she's a mess, and tears start to fall as she kisses her like that. She's never kissed someone with a promise as the only expectation. She's never promised anyone anything at all. But this beautiful, brilliant, and _frustrating_ woman makes her want to. She makes her want to be different, better. She makes her want to be _loved._

"So I guess that's a yes then?"

"Why are you _like_ this?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" Brittany laughs, blinking rapidly, ridding her lashes of the teardrops that stick to them. "I still don't understand what you mean."

"Why do you _like me?_ "

"Do you want me to tell you the list you don't like again?"

"I think maybe I like the list." There's a genuine laugh that bubbles out of Santana, and it surprises her. This, all of this, is overwhelming to her, and she presses her lips to Brittany's again, this time, staying there a little longer.

"I like the list too, a lot." Brittany's hand, still on the small of Santana's back from the first kiss, tickles up her spine. "Are you coming inside?"

"Brittany, I—" Santana feels this sort of panic gurgle in her stomach, and she can taste bile at the back of her throat. If there's too much, too fast, Santana knows she'll run. If there's too much, too fast…

"Or we could stand out on the stoop so the neighbor's hear us talking, either one."

"Oh." She sucks in as much air as she can manage. "Oh."

"Did you think…?" Brittany stifles a laugh. Santana thinks it's probably for her own benefit, and she should be embarrassed, but mostly she just feels _relieved._ She's dealt with more feelings in the last twelve hours than she has in her entire life, and really, she thinks she'd be entirely incapable of having anything that would bring them on tenfold. "How about I take you on a couple dates, and then we'll talk?"

"You want to take me on a date?" Stepping through the threshold, Santana lets Brittany close the door behind her. She immediately feels the loss of the contact of Brittany's body against her own, the loss of the thrum of a second heartbeat against her chest, and it's strangely uncomfortable.

"Do you not want me to take you on a date? I thought that's where we were headed here."

"No. I mean, yeah. No, I didn't meant I don't want you to take me on a date, _yes,_ I'd be, uh, totally down for that."

"You're really cute, you know." Brittany shakes her head. "I know, I know, _why am I like this?_ "

"I wasn't going to say that." Santana cracks a smile, looking into Brittany's eyes.

"You were thinking it though."

"Well, why _are_ you?"

"I don't know." She shrugs, walking toward the kitchen. "Another beer?"

"I should go soon. But, one more, I guess."

Santana settles into the couch. This time, she really lets herself sink back into the cushions. This time, though her stomach is still knotted, and her head is still spinning, she lets herself relax. She's given into the pull of this, and no matter how battered and bruised her heart comes out in the end, she's resigned herself to let it drag her along.

When Brittany comes back, they sit for a long while in silence. Santana feels Brittany's knee against her own, but she doesn't move to touch her any further. There's something comfortable about this. Close enough to touch, if she wanted, far enough away that she has her own bubble of space. She has no idea what she's doing, really. People tend to figure this out in their early twenties, how to talk to other humans, how to date, how to be _normal._ But Santana was too busy burying herself in medical textbooks, Santana was too busy feeling shame and embarrassment. So now here she is, nearly thirty-four, and an actual emotional infant.

"When are you free?" Brittany asks her, jarring her out of her head, and back into the living room.

"Huh?"

"When can I take you out? You don't have to tell me right now, but I just need to get a babysitter for when we do. I won't leave Li in the daycare at the hospital when I'm not there."

"The hospital." Panic bells go off in Santana's brain. Brittany's a department head, she's an attending. She never bothered to read the fraternization sections of her contract. She never—

"I'm not planning on advertising any of this there." Brittany promises. "Or to Liam, yet. Let's take this one step at a time."

"Am I even _allowed_ to go on a date with you?"

"Yes." Brittany shakes her head, laughing. It's strange, how when she laughs, Santana knows she's not laughing _at_ her. She doesn't have a visceral reaction to the sound. On the contrary, she kind of _likes_ it. "Interns, residents, Ned students, pretty off limits. Nurses are iffy, as well as a superior in your own department."

"You've, uh, really got these rules down, huh?"

"Photographic memory." She nods to herself. "Not aware from experience. I don't typically go to work to pick up dates."

"And yet…"

"You're an exception, Santana. You're an exception to a lot of things."

"Um, thanks, I guess?"

"I do mean that as a compliment. You're exceptional."

"Far from it."

"Am I never allowed to compliment you?" Gently, Brittany tucks a fallen lock of Santana's hair behind her ear. Santana doesn't shy from the touch, she just freezes, not breaking eye contact.

" _Never is an awfully long time."_

"Did you just quote _Peter Pan_ to distract me?"

"It's my favorite book. You'd think it'd be morbid, for me, thinking about the kids who don't grow up, but…it's comforting, in a weird way."

"Whatever works for you, I don't judge."

There's silence again, and Santana, finding a sort of courage, seeks out Brittany's hand with her own. Placing it on top, she laces their fingers together. She looks at them, really looks at them, sees how her short, dark fingers look entwined with Brittany's long, fair ones. There's a sort of symbolism in the contrast, she thinks, a sort of telling about something deeper. It's too much for her to process through, and so, she just counts the bones in the hand below her, a relaxation technique that she'd developed in medical school. Count and name every bone in the human body, and breathe between each. It doesn't always work, it doesn't work _most_ of the time, but now, it seems to.

"Any day." Santana tells Brittany, eventually breaking the silence again.

"What?"

"Um, the _date._ I'm on days so…any day is good."

"Oh." A slow smile spreads to Brittany's lips. "Okay then, how about Tuesday? I'll pick you up."

"Yeah, okay…Tuesday sounds really good."


	22. Chapter 22

Santana doesn't have date bras. That's what she decides, as she's throwing things out of her closet. If she's not wearing sports bras for surgery, she's in the most boring, nude cotton padded ones. The comfortable kind, that irritate her oft-tender breasts the absolute _least._ Unfortunately, there's absolutely nothing attractive about those. Come to think of it, she doesn't have date underwear either, or really, even date _clothes,_ for that matter. The few in her adult life where she'd gone on a date that didn't start at a bar and end with her pants around her ankles in the bathroom, she'd worn something dressy from work. But this is different. This isn't some coerced blind date with some girl she knows she'll never see again. This is _Brittany._ This is a person whom she actually _likes._ And more importantly, this is a person who inexplicably likes her back.

So Santana goes shopping. She takes an actual lunch break on Monday—possibly the first she's _ever_ taken, and she tortures herself. It's one of the things she hated most in the world. The clothes she owns, the bras she owns, she'd chosen them all carefully, in an intense effort to cover up her small, misshapen breasts. She hasn't bought anything new for herself since she'd started her residency, so entering Nordstrom for her is like stepping food on another planet.

She probably should have taken Kurt, but that, in and of itself, is a form of torture. He'd make her model things for him, he'd make her tell him why she needed something new and nice at all. That, she's just not ready to share yet. Even with her closes friend, she just…doesn't want to. This thing with Brittany, it's new, and it's weird, and it may go absolutely _nowhere._ If that happens, she doesn't want to have to tell Kurt and Mercedes. She doesn't want them to make it into a _thing,_ where they bring over ice cream and _Cold Mountain_ and try and make her cry, because crying is cathartic. Something like that is even more torturous than clothes shopping.

It takes her an hour and a half to find something. In the bra department first, she'd found something lacy, but still padded. Rather than find a bra to go with a dress, she found a dress to go with the bra. Twelve dresses later and four well-meaning sales girls later, Santana stands in front of the dressing room mirror in black. It feels like the best choice for her. Subtle. Discreet. Concealing. Even in that though, she pulls at the straps of the bra, she pushes and prods at her breasts. Despite Brittany having already seen them, nude and mangled, Santana is still self-conscious.

She buys the dress. It's almost three hundred dollars, and she doesn't bat an eye. She figures people of her means spend more money than that on clothes every _month,_ and since its been fifty-eight months since she's bought anything, she could spend _far_ more, and still be okay with it. She really wants to look good for this date. She _really_ wants this date to go well, and of course, it has her in some absurd tizzy.

On Tuesday, Santana leaves work on time. It's five-pm, and Brittany is picking her up at seven. In her frantic efforts to shower and tame her thick head of curls, she thinks she probably should have said eight. But it's too late for that. She can just do what she can do. It's not like Brittany hasn't seen her sweaty and frazzled after twelve hours of surgery. This feels different though. This isn't Dr. Pierce at the hospital, this is _Brittany,_ Brittany she has a crush on, Brittany, whom, against her best judgement, she wants to date. Brittany.

At seven o'clock on the dot, Ken the doorman rings the phone. She's really not sure the etiquette of this. She'd straightened up her perpetually disorganized apartment, just in case, but she doesn't know if she should go downstairs to meet her, or buzz her up. She doesn't know what Brittany has planned, so she doesn't know if she should open a bottle of wine first. The lack of control is astounding to Santana, and she feels vaguely like she's free-falling from the face of a cliff. Is there a book about dating? _Dating for Dummies? The Complete Idiots Guide to Not Embarrassing Yourself In Front Of a Woman Who Has Her Life Way More Together Than You, But Still For Some Reason Is Interested In You?_ Should she call Barnes and Noble? Is it too late now?

She opts for telling Ken to send Brittany up. If her plans are _immediately,_ they can just go. But if they're not…well, Santana _always_ has nice bottles of wine. Gifts from patients, gifts from _herself._ At least growing up with a pretentious douchebag of a father has given her good taste in wine. That's about all she can say for the man.

When Brittany knocks on the door, Santana takes a breath. Then another, and another, and another. She flips her curls over her shoulders, and she opens it. All of her breathing of a moment ago is forgotten with one look at Brittany. She's in blue, and her loose hair and red lipstick make her look even sexier than Santana is ever seen her. She smiles, and Santana _really_ hopes she has time for the wine before they go. She's not sure she'll be able to handle being out on a date with someone who looks like this without one. Actually, she's not sure she'll be able to handle it _at all._

"Um, hey." Santana attempts to avoid stammering, and Brittany gives one of those airy little laughs she does.

"Hey. You look beautiful."

"I, uh, so do you." The back of Santana's neck heats up at the compliment, and she steps back a little from the door. "Do you want to come in, or, are we in a hurry?"

"The reservations aren't until eight, right around the corner, so we have time for me to come in."

Santana is _awkward._ It's not an exaggeration in any way shape or form. She's just about tripping over her own two feet as she leads Brittany inside. A tour feels too cliche, like those _I guess we won't be making it to dinner_ moments in the movies, so she skips it. Instead, she manages to mumble a _red or white?_ and opens a bottle of wine. It takes a lot for her not to drink right out of the bottle—as if she hasn't done that time and time again in the past—but she manages.

"It's a really nice place." Brittany looks around, taking the glass Santana holds out for her.

"I thought you'd been in here before."

"The building, I have. But I mean the way you've decorated. I like it."

"Oh. Cool, thanks." Santana takes a long sip, feeling the bitterness hit the back of her tongue. She fidgets, playing with the hem of her dress, and tries to force herself to act like a human. "Where are we going?"

"There's a little sushi bar that I really love. You eat sushi, right?" Brittany wrinkles her nose. "I probably should have asked."

"Yeah, totally. I eat raw fish, and cooked fish, and shellfish…" She stops herself from rambling, then takes another breath.

"Are you okay, Santana? You seem a little…off."

"Yeah. I'm fine. Totally." Her voice is probably an octave higher than it normally is, and she gulps down more of the wine. Once there's enough of that in her system, she'll behave far better.

Or not. Even after she pours them both a second glass, and they finish before they leave, she still feels manic and jittery. As they walk outside, Santana's palms are so sweaty, that when Brittany goes to take it, she fumbles in her purse for something instead. She can feel herself messing this up, and the more she convinces herself of that, the more awkward she becomes.

When they share sashimi, Santana accidental stabs Brittany's hand with the chopstick. It's so minor, and Brittany giggles it off, but Santana is just mortified. She's even _more_ mortified when her grip on the lychee martini she's drinking slips, and she breaks the glass all over the table, soaking the tablecloth, soaking _Brittany's_ dress. She wants to quit her job and the hospital, and change her name so Brittany can never find her. She wants to crawl under the table and die.

Frustrated with herself, her seemingly poor table manners, and her inability to make normal sentences, Santana becomes sullen. She tries not to show it, but she knows its apparent. She's absolutely positive that in all her efforts _not_ to fuck this up, she's done so in such a royally bad way that Brittany is never going to want to see her again. It hurts, and she hates it. Despite her own ineptitude, everything about _Brittany_ on this date, from the way she speaks to the waiter, to the way she holds shumai to Santana's lips, makes her want this more. It makes her want _Brittany_ more. It makes her want to be a _person,_ and not some robotic surgical tool who's incapable of human contact.

Brittany pays the check. Santana tries to do it, but Brittany is insistent upon it. Once it's paid, she walks Santana home. Santana has absolutely no idea why the woman would _want_ to after so many disasters in the restaurant, and the company of a _slug_ all night long, but she does.

"I had a good time tonight." Brittany murmurs, wringing her hands in front of her, when they stop in front of Santana's building. Eyes widening in disbelief, Santana lets out a bitter laugh.

"You don't have to lie."

"I'm not."

"Seriously, Brittany? It was terrible. _I_ was terrible."

"Close your eyes."

"What?" Santana furrows her brow. "Why?"

"Just close them." When she does, Brittany takes hold of her left hand, and Santana startles. "Now stop thinking."

"I can't, I'm always thinking."

"Just try."

Though she feels entirely vulnerable, with her eyes closed, the weight of Brittany's hand serves as some sort of reassurance. It's strange, and it's the first time she's touched Brittany all night, but it feels _good._ Forcing herself, she concentrates on nothing else, just that soft weight, just the way Brittany's thumb makes the slightest circles on the inside of her wrist. She lets the rest of her thoughts go. She stops focusing on the bad date, or on the seven trillion other things that run through her mind every moment. She just focuses on _now._

"Now open them." At Brittany's command, Santana lets her lashes flutter open, and she's met with the sight of soft blue eyes, and the curve of a smile. "Kiss me."

For the first time, Santana doesn't hesitate. She leans in, and she brushes Brittany's nose with her own. To her own surprise, she manages to catch Brittany's lips at just the right angle, and she sucks in a breath. It's a good kiss, the best kind of kiss, and with Brittany's arms snaking around her neck, she deepens in, letting her tongue caress Brittany's, and her hand press into the small of her back.

When they pull apart, Santana doesn't notice the string of saliva, or her slight loss of footing. She's stopped obsessing about all the things she's done wrong tonight, and instead, turns her attention to the freckles on the bridge of Brittany's nose, to the way she licks her bottom lip, to how she looks at Santana like nobody has ever looked at her before.

"Now I had an even better time time tonight." Brittany whispers, then pecks Santana's lips another time. "I asked you out, because I wanted to have dinner with you. I don't care about having vodka all over my dress."

"Or getting stabbed with a chopstick?"

"Or sweaty palms, or any of it. I don't know if you were trying to impress me, or…"

"Yeah…I was. I _am._ " Santana takes a moment to gather her thoughts, and she goes for truth. "I'm out of my league here, Brittany. You've obviously been in serious relationships, you've been _engaged._ You're…so together. And me…I'm in my thirties, and this is new to me. My most meaningful relationship is with my vibrator." She pauses, and gasps at the fact that she said that. "Oh my fucking God. Do you see this? I'm a disaster."

"I think you're cute." Brittany threads her fingers with Santana's. "And you don't have to try and impress me—"

"But you're just so—"

"Let me finish." She chastises, gentle with her words. "You don't have to try and impress me, because you already _have._ I have feelings for you, and I don't see them going anywhere. So if you'll let me, I'd like to have a do-over date. One where we wear jeans, and go to the Shake Shack. One where you don't have to feel like you're messing up, when you're _not._ "

"Why are you—"

"I know, why am I like this?" Brittany laughs, which, in turn, makes Santana laugh. "Maybe I was trying to impress _you_ at the fancy sushi bar. I'd much prefer jeans and cheese fries."

"I guess it's clear that neither of us is a cardiologist." With the big grin that spreads across her face, Santana's dimple deepens, and Brittany presses her thumb into it.

"So is that a yes?"

"Only if you let me pay."

"I _guess._ " Brittany purses her lips, as if she's seriously considering saying no. "I hate to have to go right now."

"But the babysitter…"

"But the babysitter." She nods, then leans in, giving Santana one last, lingering kiss. "Goodnight, Santana."

"Goodnight, Brittany."


	23. Chapter 23

The two weeks after Santana's disastrous date with Brittany are absolute hell. The first night they plan to have their do-over date, Santana ends up on a plane to St. Paul. There's a dispute over a heart for one of her patients, and she's going to be damn sure she's the one who gets it.

She does, of course. She waves around prognoses and finally ends up going before the hospital board, to fight for that little boy in New York, all while Mercedes is worrying about the heart not surviving if it takes any longer. But it's theirs, and five hours after they landed in St. Paul, they're on a plane back to New York, the heart in a cooler, attached to a machine that keeps it beating.

The surgery lasts into the night, and Santana is glad that she actually remembered to text Brittany, to apologize profusely for it. Brittany gets it though, in the way only another doctor would. Saving a life comes before all else. And save one she does. She watches that heart begin to beat in a new chest, she watches an eight year old pianist wake up in recovery, she watches his father cry, and feels his mother hug her. She's exhausted, and her hands are cramped, but before she passes out, she can't help but call Brittany. Celebrating with her, it feels right. Wanting to celebrate with her, it should scare her, but this time, it doesn't.

The second night they plan for their do-over date, Liam gets sick. Brittany pokes her head into Santana's office before she leaves, and she apologizes for having to cancel. Santana waves her off, and asks if she can do anything to help. Then, much to her own surprise, out of view of anyone in the hallway, she steals a quick kiss. She hadn't kissed her since their goodnight kiss, and for nine days it's all she's thought about.

That night, Brittany calls her. Santana is sprawled out on her couch, sipping red wine, and eating Thai noodles out of the container, and she smiles when she hears the phone ring. Brittany didn't have to call, Santana is sure she has her hands full, but she does. She does, and she whispers to Santana through the line, telling her that Liam is sleeping in her arms. It makes Santana's stomach flutter. It makes her heart skip a few beats. She's not sure why, but the idea of Brittany calling her like that, it feels like something special.

They said that the third time's the charm, except that in this case, it isn't. Or, maybe, _blessing in disguise_ is a better saying for them. Fifteen days after their sushi date, Santana _finally_ thinks they'll get together. Then Brittany texts her that the babysitter cancelled. It's only a half hour before they're suppose to leave, and frustrated, Santana groans, and debates what to do. She's sick of waiting. She's sick of only seeing Brittany when they run into each other getting coffee. She's sick of only talking to her on the phone.

 _Do you want to bring him? I won't feel bad if you say no. I totally get it, if you want to keep this separate from him. Or, alternatively, we can just pretend this is a friend thing, or that I invited *him* out. I don't care, whatever makes you comfortable. Totally your call._

 _You send the longest texts ever. ;) That sounds great, he'll be thrilled._

For Santana, knowing that Brittany's son will be there takes a lot of the pressure off. It's strange for her, since the idea of going out with someone with a _child_ would have freaked her out wholly, and sent her running for the hills not long ago. But honestly, after her inability to behave like a normal human on her last day, she thinks a buffer is good. She thinks that being around a kid whose company she genuinely enjoys will make her less likely to drop an ice cream cone of Brittany's face, or…flood a building or something, depending on how disastrous she is.

"Doccer Santana!" When Santana approaches Brittany's house, she and Liam are sitting on the stoop, and he cheers for her arrival. "We gettin' hot dogs and ice cream!"

"Are we? No way!" She winks at him, accepting his hug around her leg, and the smile that Brittany gives her in response to it.

"You knowed that! Mama say you 'vited us!"

"Well she didn't keep my secret very well, did she, sir?"

"I still not _sir._ "

"Ah, right. I'm sorry, Mr. Liam Connolly Pierce, I'll try and remember that." She pokes his belly, and he giggles and giggles.

"Li, baby, let's put your sweater on." Brittany calls him off Santana's leg, then gives her a little grin as she gets his arms in the sleeves. "Hi."

"Hey."

As they walk to the subway, Liam insists on holding both Brittany and Santana's hands, and if he weren't so small, Santana would have been _sure_ that he'd run up ahead, leaving them holding _each other's_ hands. But he's so little, and so content to chatter away between them.

Because of that, Santana assumes, she's able to act entirely normal. She pushes away Brittany's hand when she tries to pay for dinner, and although Liam talks almost the whole time, Santana feels like this is a _much_ better date. She's at ease with Brittany, and when Brittany offers her a lick of her custard cone, Santana doesn't hesitate to lean over, something that absolutely would have weirded her out before she met this woman.

They take a cab back uptown, and Liam, ever persistent, begs Santana to come read his book for bed. Brittany's eyebrows raise hopefully, and Santana nods in agreement, figuring maybe she can hang out for awhile after, talk to Brittany, maybe make out with her a little. Date things, on their non-date-like do-over date.

Santana uses the bathroom and splashes water on her face, as Brittany gets Liam into his pajamas. She'd been fine—better than fine—all night, but the thought of _date things_ has a familiar knot of anxiety forming low in her belly. She takes a breath, then another, and then she tugs at her bra straps, checking herself in the mirror. She's fine, it's fine, but…she's still a little bit of a mess.

"Doccer Santana!" Liam shouts from the top of the stairs. "Hurry! Hurry! You needa read my book, okey!"

"Shh, Li, she'll be up when she's done. Come on, let's get your book picked, and you tucked in."

"I knows what book! Big train book!"

By the time Santana calms herself enough to get upstairs, Brittany has Liam wriggling beneath the covers. Santana stands in the doorway, just for a minute, to watch them. She should feel like she's intruding, but she doesn't. She hasn't been in there lives very long, but already, they've made her feel welcome. She can't explain the tightening she feels in her throat at the site of Brittany kissing the little boy's forehead, but she thinks, maybe, it comes from seeing a functional family. From the love they share. From a gratitude that she gets to witness it.

While she reads to Liam, Santana feels Brittany's eyes on her, and the heat creeps up the back of her neck. The way this woman looks at her, it's so foreign, and she doesn't know whether to run, terrified, or to grab her tight and attempt to keep her forever. That's the scariest thing for Santana, the way it goes against her natural instinct to run, to protect herself. The way she _wants_ to stay here, in Brittany's warm, happy home, while everything in her screams to leave.

"I really appreciate tonight." Brittany tells Santana, once they're downstairs, and she's opened up a bottle of wine. "I'm sorry the babysitter cancelled."

"It's cool." Santana shakes her head, leaning against the high counter in the kitchen. "I'm just glad we still got to go."

"I owe you a real date though."

"You don't owe me anything, Brittany." She shrugs. "Liam's the biggest thing in your life. If I didn't want to spend time with him, you probably should just cut me out of your life now."

"I really, _really_ appreciate that you understand that." Brittany hands get a glass of wine. "But I'd still like to take you out again, just us."

"So is that a…second or a third date?" Santana goes to smirk, but then freaks herself out, thinking of arbitrary dating rules and her own insecurities.

"It's whatever you want it to be, Santana." She takes a long sip of her own wine. "I mean that. We're doing this at whatever pace makes you comfortable."

"What I want right now is to kiss you."

"You won't get an argument on that from me."

Gulping down half the contents of her glass in one shot, Santana leans in. Someday, she decides, she won't need to do that before she kisses Brittany. But for now, her heart races so fast whenever she thinks about their lips touching. For now, she feels like she's less sloppy, and less likely to give Brittany a bloody nose when she's calmer. For now, she'll drink the wine first, and savor the taste of Brittany's lips after.

After they kiss for awhile in the kitchen, they end up moving to the living room. Brittany puts on a movie—she'd asked Santana what she wanted to watch, and she's pretty sure her answer was just a nod that didn't answer the question in any sort of way—and Santana finishes a second glass of wine. The two women talking about lilies on the screen makes her dizzy. The proximity to Brittany makes her _dizzier._ She smells her perfume, she feels the heat radiate from her thighs. She wonders, really, how you just start kissing someone again that you're kind of sort of dating. Does she just do it? Does she ask every time? Does she have to do that will-I-won't-I lean in sort of thing? She's really, really clueless.

It's Brittany's hand on her thigh, which gives Santana some sort of silent permission. She sets her glass down on the coffee table, and Brittany turns to meet her halfway. Her heart doesn't stop racing as she kisses her, kisses her, kisses her, deep and slow. She should be embarrassed when she moans into Brittany's mouth. She should be embarrassed when she presses closer to her, bending her knee up, and trying to get some leverage to kiss her how she wants. But she's not. She just wants more of Brittany. She just wants more of this dizzying sensation.

The way Brittany lets her dictate the pace does a lot to quiet the racing of Santana's mind, and she finds herself nodding, as Brittany lowers her back onto the couch. She sort of feels like she's going to pass out, when Brittany presses herself on top of her, bracing herself on her elbows, but if there's a good sort of pass out, _this_ would be it.

"Still good?" Brittany murmurs into her ear. Her face is flushed, and her blonde hair is disheveled, and seeing her like this, seeing her usual polished facade evaporate, seeing that she's turned on by _her_ makes her feel more comfortable in her own skin than ever before. Turns her on, more than ever before. "Santana?"

"Mmhm." She murmurs, realizing she forgot to answer. A whimper escapes her lips, when sharp teeth drag along the column of her neck, and she finds herself slipping her hands up under Brittany's t-shirt, trying to get her closer, trying to just get…some sort of friction.

She feels like a teenager, or, what she _should_ have felt like as a teenager, involved in such a heavy make out session with Brittany. Hands wander over clothes, and when Brittany tentatively touches her covered breasts, Santana nods, nervous, but trusting. She's so sensitive there, and Brittany is so gentle, but the coil that forms in the pit of her stomach winds tighter and tighter, the heat in her chest burns hotter and hotter. She has to turn her head away for a moment, she has to breath, she has to prevent herself from embarrassing herself and _coming_ from this like she's a thirteen-year-old boy. But she needs it, she _aches_ for it, and that carnal desire has her pushing everything else aside, in favor of reaching it.

"Can we…" Santana pants, brushing Brittany's nose with her own. Even with blown pupils pushing out cerulean iris, she looks deep into those eyes. She sees reverence and desire. She sees someone who seems to care for her in a way she's never seen. She sees someone she can _trust._ "Can we go upstairs?"


	24. Chapter 24

There's a pause. There's an excruciating moment in time, where Santana waits. She expects the sting of rejection to come. She expects to walk out the door with her tail between her legs. She expects that this was all too good to be true. She expects the worst, because it's easier to brace herself for that, than to be build herself up, to then be wholly unprepared for a free fall.

She feels Brittany searching her face. She squirms beneath her, and she squeezes her eyes shut. It's too much scrutiny. It's too much…everything, and she doesn't know how to handle it. They remain closed, the blackness behind her lids far easier to handle, until she feels the press of a palm on her cheeks. Until she feels the press of a _kiss_ on her lips. It's then that she opens them again. It's then that she makes herself look back into Brittany's eyes.

"Is that what you want?"

"I…do you want that?" Santana's voice cracks a little. Mentally, she shoves her fingers in her ears. Mentally, she lets out a scream that drowns out the sound of Brittany's answer.

"I want _you,_ however you'll let me have you."

That's all it takes for Santana to shuffle back to a sitting position, nearly knocking Brittany off of her as she does. Brittany laughs, leaning over to kiss Santana again, before offering her a hand up. Santana's legs are shaky as she stands, and her stomach turns over and over again. The whole way up the stairs, she has to will herself not to throw up. Normal people cannot possibly be like this. Normal people cannot possibly _obsess_ like this. She can't even imagine what she'd be like if she didn't take pills to keep her mind from racing triply. Probably entirely incapacitated.

Santana's never been in Brittany's bedroom, and when the door opens, she sucks in all the air she can manage. She's far from a virgin, but yet, in this white room, she feels like one. Every sexual experience she's had until this very moment was hurried. Void of feelings. Rushed. It was all about physical pleasure, despite Santana knowing that she'd feel overexposed before she could even flee from the room. But here, here it's different. Here, she's already caring too deeply for this woman. Here, she doesn't want to feel rife with regret, before it's even over. Here, it means something.

"Hey." Brittany locks the door behind them, and she takes both of Santana's hands. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." It's more of a word than a breath, and she nods profusely, wanting to make her point. "Good. Can we just…the lights?"

"Of course." Her fingers are quick to find the dimmer, and she turns them down, until just the slightest glow of light remains in the room. "Do you want to continue what we were doing downstairs?"

There's something about Brittany Pierce. Something that makes Santana feel like they've known each other for their entire lives. A _way,_ is the only word she thinks she can use. This way about her that puts Santana at ease. This way that knows exactly what Santana wants and needs. This way that puts her at ease. It's uncanny, and it should make Santana feel like her space has been violated, but it doesn't. It doesn't at all.

"That sounds _really_ good."

Still fully clothed, Santana perches on the edge of Brittany's bed. Brittany steps between her legs, starting softly on her lips again. It makes Santana's head spin, just the way she kisses her. She didn't realize it was possible for kisses to feel so good, but _these_ certainly do. These are enough for Santana to feel comfortable, slowly sliding back into the pillows of another woman's bed.

Brittany kneels over her then, determined, Santana thinks, to make her feel good. Still kissing her, Brittany gently trails her fingers up Santana's sides, thumbs just barely grazing her breasts. At the sensation, she freezes. A sense of panic seizes her, and she gasps for air, feeling every cause for anxiety hitting her all at once.

"I won't take it off if you don't want me to." Brittany hums into her ear. "I won't do anything you don't want."

"I just need a minute." She squeezes her eyes shut. She's mortified. Of _course_ she wanted to come upstairs to get naked. But here she is, still fully clothed, and already starting her spiral into panic. "Can you take yours off first?"

Wordlessly, Brittany pulls hers over her head, unsnapping her bra and removing both in a single motion. For someone who'd spent a good part of the first five years after her surgery looking at pictures of _normal_ breasts on her dusty old Gateway computer—in a completely non-sexual way—Santana would have expected to be jealous. These breasts, _Brittany's_ breasts, are near perfect. The ideal incarnation of human breasts. And yet, for the first time in her life, Santana isn't thinking about that. Santana isn't breaking this down into what _she_ could look like, but rather, appreciating the gorgeous form of the woman straddling her.

"Wow." She breathes, eyes comically wide. She wants her hands on Brittany, she wants her mouth on Brittany, but all she can do is lay there like a deer in headlights. "Wow."

" _Wow,_ I really like you. In a romantic way, in a _you're beautiful_ way, as a human…" The words come with a giggle, and again, Santana thinks of how Brittany's laugher doesn't bother her. Again, Santana thinks of how good she feels around her. And because of that, she puts her hands over Brittany's, and she guides them to the hem of her shirt. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." Her nod is sure, and Brittany kisses her again, slow and deep. Long, and enough to make her mind blank, if only for an instant. "Sorry I'm making this so unsexy."

"Impossible. _You're_ sexy." She assures Santana, thumbs rubbing the tiny, exposed strip of skin, where she's begun to lift her shirt. Santana starts to shake her head, but Brittany raises an eyebrow. "Promise."

Though she feels emotionally stunted, and is beyond embarrassed that as a grown women, she still needs reassurances before being undressed in front of Brittany, the tenderness she sees in Brittany's face, in her actions, is so soothing. Santana can tell that Brittany is trying to distract her from the process of taking her shirt off—unwrapping a gift no one wants, she thinks, bitterly—and she closes her eyes. She thinks about Brittany's lips on her neck, sucking the hollow at the base. She thinks about the blonde hair slipping through her fingers. She thinks about the foreign pulse against the heel of her hand, one that flutters and jumps, one that seems to almost match the rhythm of her own. Nervous and excited.

When Brittany gets the shirt up, she arches her back, letting her pull it over her head. Then, then she lifts her head, she captures Brittany's lips again. She curls her tongue around Brittany's, she explores her mouth, and she opens her eyes again. Kissing with her eyes open is _weird,_ but before she can scold herself, she watches Brittany's pop open. So close to her, so blue, and she's drowning. Drowning in the blue, drowning in the heat that rushes and thrums through her body, drowning in Brittany.

Long fingers on the clasp of her bra seeks silent permission, and when Santana sucks in air, she's breathing Brittany's breath. She's breathing all that this is, and her answer is another kiss, her answer is fingers scratching her scalp. She thinks Brittany murmurs something against her lips, but she can't hear her. All she hears is her pulse rushing in her ears, hammering, hammering, until she's sure it will deafen her.

Once her bra is undone, and Brittany lifts her head to guide the straps down her arms, Santana fights her innate urge to cross her arms over her chest. She fights the need to hide herself. She fights her every instinct, because somehow, someway, Brittany has breached all of her barriers, Brittany has scaled all her walls. Brittany, Brittany, this woman who drives her crazy, has gotten closer to her heart than any other person in the world ever has.

"Still okay?" She checks, and biting her lip, Santana nods, eyes never leaving Brittany's face. "Can I…?"

"Why?" Santana's chest tightens, and her stomach clenches.

"Because I want to. Because you're beautiful. Because if I'm going to make love to you, I'd like to make love to _all_ of you."

"I…" Words die in Santana's throat. She thinks of questioning whether she _really_ still wants to. She thinks of turning the tables, of sliding Brittany's jeans off to distract her from this idea, of going down on her until she's too tired to remember that she ever wanted to touch Santana to begin with. She thinks of preserving her dignity, and protecting herself from the deepest hurt. But she doesn't. She lets herself trust, no matter what the consequence. "Okay."

Leaning back against the soft pillows on Brittany's bed, Santana forces herself to keep her eyes open. She forces herself to see what she's so afraid to see. She thinks, in theory, maybe it's the same concept as getting back on the horse, facing her fears and all that. But horses, they're easy. Horses…her thoughts die, when Brittany's nipples make contact with her own. She jolts and shivers, and it only grows more intense, when Brittany presses a kiss over her heart, letting her lips linger to feel the beat of it. Santana wonders if she feels the pace quicken like it does. Nearing tachycardia, probably. She wonders, she wonders, and then, to her own surprise, she brushes Brittany's hair from where it splays across maimed flesh.

At that, Brittany stops, just for a moment. She looks up into Santana's eyes. She smiles into her skin. She hums, and Santana feels the word _beautiful_ ripple into her heart then travel down, down, and settle between her legs, making her want Brittany more than she imagined possible. Soft lips travel down, down, over deep scar lines, over purple skin. The combination of both Brittany's reverence and her need to pleasure her make Santana's head spin. Her feet scrabble against cool sheets, and she fights the moan that seems to settle permanently in the back of her throat.

The flick of Brittany's tongue on her damaged nipple frees it, finally, and when lips latch around it, Santana's fairly certain she might come just from that. Her breasts her tender almost all the time, but the way they feel sensation, it's something she's never experienced, it's something she's never _wanted_ to experience, until now. Until it's Brittany. Brittany with her caring eyes. Brittany with her mouth that wanders and explores. Brittany with her hand firmly pressed into Santana's hip, bracing her, assuring her.

Fighting the urge to push Brittany's head closer, Santana fists the pillowcase behind her head. Her breathing is labored, she knows, and every suckle and kiss, every trail and flick, Santana feels between her legs. It pushes, pushes, threatening to drive her over the edge, but it's Brittany finding her hand, it's Brittany bringing it to her head, that really labels her a goner.

"You show me what feels good for you. You show me exactly what you want."

"I just…want you." Santana gasps, the hum she gets in response making her cant her hips up. She's reaching the point of desperation, and when she feels Brittany's fingers trace the seam of her jeans, and tease at the zipper, she prays to whatever higher power is out there to let her survive this night.

"Can I…" Brittany wriggles down, pressing a kiss to the button of Santana's pants, and then trailing them down, down. "I want to go down on you."

"Holy shit." Santana hisses, the husk of Brittany's voice _really_ making her pulse down there, _really_ threatening to shove her straight into a free fall. "Holy shit."

"Can I take that as a yes?"

Santana just nods, and this time, she's forced to close her eyes. This time, it's too much. She can barely bear the _sensation_ of this woman sliding her jeans down her body. She can barely bear the _sensation_ of her mouthing her silk panties, before removing them completely, and spreading Santana's legs wide. If she sees it, she's sure she'll explode. If she sees it, she sure every molecule of her being will spread out across the universe, and she'll cease to exist.

Never before, has Santana allowed anyone to do this, never before has she _wanted_ anyone to. But Brittany is different. Brittany just pleasured her deformed breasts, and still _wanted_ to. Brittany has murmured into her skin how beautiful she is, more times than the word has been said to her in her _life._ Brittany is everything she never thought she wanted, and _so_ much more.

"Keep showing me." Brittany squeezes Santana's hand on the back of her head, and the hot breath that hits her sex makes her whimper. "I want this to be good for you."

" _You're_ good for me." She confesses, breathy, and a quivering mess. "All of you."

"You're good for me too. So good."

While Brittany kisses up her inner thighs, Santana's mind empties. She can think of nothing but physical sensation. She can think of nothing but the way Brittany inches closer and closer, without actually touching her sex. By the time her nose finally nudges her clit, and she licks straight through her sex, Santana is on the verge of tears. It feels too good, it feels too much, and Brittany doesn't even stop the first time she comes. She keeps going, going, until Santana feels a new coil forming in the pit of her belly. Until her tongue is inside of her, and Santana's body shakes. Until her legs tighten around Brittany's ears, and she has to push her away.

She's a mess, and absolute mess, and Brittany kissing her way back up her body doesn't make it any better. Instead, it has the opposite effect. It sets her reeling. A sob hiccups from her throat, and her arms fly up to cover her face. She's _crying_ in the middle of sex, and as much as she pleads with her mind to shut it all down, it doesn't. It's too good, too much, the actual act of sex, and the emotional care that Brittany pays to her, and Santana is crippled by mortification.

"Hey, did I do something wrong?" Brittany moves off of Santana, and Santana keeps shaking her head, face still hidden.

"Just gimme a minute." She mumbles, trying to scrub her face clean. "Then it's your turn."

"Santana…this isn't about…you're _crying._ "

"I'm not." She protests, and feels Brittany sit up. "I'm having an allergy attack."

"You don't have to hide it." Brittany whispers, but she doesn't try and touch Santana. It's like she _knows_ it will be too much.

"I…" She sucks in air, again, again, again, until she can really breathe. When she takes her arms away from her face, she sees Brittany, jeans still on, sitting topless and cross legged beside her. Her hair is tousled, her face glistening with the sheen of Santana's arousal "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why are you just…this is why I ask why you're like this, because I don't even know what I'm trying to say. You just… _wow._ "

"You're pretty wow yourself."

"I haven't done anything yet."

"You're already _wow_ though. You're sexy, and beautiful, and making you feel good _really_ turned me on."

"I should probably do something about that." Santana pushes herself up, wiping away the last remnants of her tears, the last remnants of her _insanity._ She had a moment—with more than good reason—but she's regained composure. She can stop acting so weird.

"Not if you're…"

"I'm good, I'm really good." She breathes, and leans over to kiss Brittany. When she tastes herself on Brittany's lips, she moans into her mouth. It sends shivers down her spine, and when she pulls back a little, she has to lick her own lips. "My turn."


	25. Chapter 25

Santana doesn't stay the night. She knows her own limitations, and she knows that will put her over the edge. She's far past emotional as it is. The whole night was something else, and then, then Brittany kissing her at the door, in sweatpants and a long t-shirt, her hair a mess, it just pushes her past her comfort zone. She wants to stay. She hasn't felt that way before, not _ever._ But this time, she does. This time, she wants to wake up beside Brittany. This time, she wants to kiss her with morning breath. She wants to hurry to get ready for work beside her. She wants all of that, and it paralyzes her with fear.

The next day, she keeps her distance. As much as she wants to go to Brittany's office, to bring her lesbian lilies, or, ask her to go on a road trip to Waterloo, or some other movie sort of thing, she doesn't. Instead, she focuses on her patients. She has a surgical consult with the parents of a little boy from oncology in the morning, and she puts on her doctor face. The face that's sure and confident. The face that's in direct opposition to her _other_ one. She talks to them, and she's in her element. She talks to them, and she knows she can save their son. It's a far cry from the women who tripped over her own underwear, getting out of Brittany's bed last night.

Kurt meets her for lunch. Or, rather, he stands outside her office door with his arms crossed, until she agrees to go for dim sum with him. She can't really explain why, but she's nervous about it. Maybe because he has this inexplicable way of figuring out _exactly_ what is going on with her life. Or maybe because this whole thing with Brittany is so new, that she's afraid one single word about it will shatter everything that's happening.

"What's up with you?" Kurt asks, ten minutes into their meal. Santana wishes she had one of those jobs where she could drink with lunch. One of those jobs where doing so wouldn't put lives at risk.

"What? Nothing's up with me."

"Really?" He cocks an eyebrow. "Because there's totally something up. Mercedes thinks so too. Are you in a program?"

"A program? What?"

"I don't know. You drink a lot."

"You drink _way_ more than me." Santana rolls are eyes. "Why the hell would I be in a program?"

"You haven't come out with us in like three weeks. That's weird."

"So because I don't feel like hanging out with you losers in the same bar every night, that means I'm in a _program?_ Maybe I just have a _life._ "

"Ha!" Kurt snickers, grabbing a pork bun. "That's _hilarious._ We both know you have no life."

"I have a life! I have—"

"Patients? Surgeries? Sleep?"

"People who I spend time with who aren't _you._ "

"Who?" He scoffs. "Ken your doorman?"

"One time, I went for drinks with Ken. _One._ "

"So who are these _people_ then?"

"None of your business." Santana picks at her cuticles, then reaches over to pick up a piece of shrimp toast.

"Oh my _God._ You're dating someone! It's Dani, isn't it?"

"Who the hell is Dani?" She furrows her brow, trying to place the name to a face. Nothing comes, and Kurt looks at her like she has an extra pair of eyes.

"Dani _Harper?_ Who you went on a _date_ with? Ring a bell?"

"You actually think I'm dating _her?_ No. Never. Not in a million years. You know I love Dave, but that was the worst date I've ever been on. She was intolerable. And thanks for reminding me that I'm still pissed at you. Asshole."

"Get over it. You love me, and you know I have your best interests at heart."

"Naturally, my best interests are shitty dates."

"Your best interests are doing something besides holing up in the hospital. Seriously, you sleep in an on call room more than any other attending in the whole place."

"Excuse me for caring about my patients." She stabs at a dumpling with her chopstick, and Kurt retracts his hand, lest she give it the same treatment.

"I'm not trying to fight with you."

"Then stop pissing me off. I have other things in my life, and I'll tell you about it when I feel like it."

"So you _are_ seeing someone! Tell me her name! Tell me where you met her! Tell me _everything!_ "

"No." Santana shakes her head, almost curling in on herself. "When I want to talk about it, you'll be the first to know. But for now, absolutely not."

The remainder of their lunch involves Kurt trying to get information out of Santana, but she mostly tunes him out. Instead, against her better judgement, she thinks of last night with Brittany. Instead, she remembers how it felt to settle between her thighs, how it felt to work her mouth against Brittany, to feel her writhe, to hear her moan her name. She remembers kissing her, the her own taste, lingering on Brittany's mouth, mingling with the taste of Brittany's on her own. She remembers that hollow ache in the pit of her stomach as she pulled her jeans back on, and covered her breasts back up with her t-shirt. She remembers how badly she wanted to stay, and yet, how deeply she felt like she didn't deserve it.

Because of that, she finds it so hard to concentrate on Kurt's whining that she doesn't tell him anything. Frankly, she doesn't really care how he feels about it. She loves him deeply, he's her best friend in the world, but he doesn't necessarily _understand_ her. He doesn't get what it's like to measure every action the way Santana does. What she fears, versus what she wants. What she wants, versus what she believes she should. What she believes she should want, versus what she'll allow herself to have. It's an exhausting existence, truly, for her. It's a state of mind that makes her feel very, very alone, even among the people she cares the most about.

By the time they walk back to the hospital, he's at least changed the subject. Something about him and Dave and a chandelier, she thinks. She can't really focus, honestly, and for Santana, who craves control of her emotions, it's maddening. She's never replayed a night in her head, over and over again. But here she is. Here she can't get through the day without a thousand images of her fingers splayed against Brittany's bare back. Dark on pale, thumb brushing a constellation of freckles over sacral vertebrae. Here, she can almost _feel_ the tiny red bruise, where her chest meets her shoulder, a reminder of the tenderness Brittany had shown.

When she gets back to her office, she tries to turn off her mind. She buries her phone deep in the pocket of her scrubs, and she goes to the emergency room. It's possible that Santana is the only attending physician who will willingly do sutures in the pit, but she doesn't care. She occupies herself stitching up a four year old who fell of a park bench, an eleven year old who wiped out on his skateboard, whoever she can find to heal, just so her mind is busy. Just so she's not throwing herself at Brittany, and looking like a fool in the process.

At six o'clock, Santana starts to pack up. She's not sure what she's going to do at home, but she's so tired that it seems like the only option. She didn't get home until after one last night, and even for her, who rarely sleeps, her six-am alarm felt brutal. The too-good ache between her thighs of the morning has turned into a weariness, and she's pretty sure she could just pass out and sleep through the night the moment she walks in the door. She even considers the on call room, but after the sexcapdes of Hayward and Motta, she's sort of taken to avoiding it.

"Hey, you." Santana jerks her head up, hearing Brittany's voice in the doorway. She's already closed her blinds, and shut down her computer, and had she not stopped to pull a few files from her desk, she would have missed her. She would have had to wait until she found the courage to call her.

"Oh, hi." Her hands turn clammy almost instantly, and nervous excitement flutters in her chest. She wonders if anyone has ever had a heart attack from feelings like this. She's a doctor, she knows better, but something about this woman makes her believe the impossible is possible. Something about her… "I, uh, didn't think I'd see you today."

"Yeah." Brittany shoves her hands into the pockets of her scrubs, and for the first time, Santana realizes that she must have just come out of surgery. "I'm not trying to freak you out or anything. I just couldn't stop thinking about you all day."

"Why?" Heat flares at the back of Santana's neck.

"Last night…it was really good."

"Really? I mean, God, it was _really_ good for me. Like, totally blow my kind good. I swear, in the cab on the way home, I was still like, _pulsing_ or something, and…that second time was just…" She shakes her head, stopping her spew of words. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Of _course_ really. I woke up this morning and my pillow smelled like you, and I really wished I was getting up to make you breakfast."

"Sorry, I didn't know if you wanted me to stay, with Liam, and stuff. And also, I just…I don't know. Sorry."

"You don't have to be." Brittany pushes the door closed behind her, and steps into Santana's space. "I know you're not comfortable having your business all over the hospital, but since it's just us in here, would it be okay if I kissed you?"

"Oh." Santana swallows, her throat dry. She didn't expect this. She'd really been bracing herself for Brittany to want nothing to do with her, and now, Brittany in her office, Brittany in close proximity to her, Brittany's perfume in her nostrils, and her breath just inches away, it's a lot. It's all she'd hoped for, it's all she never thought would happen. "Yeah. Yeah, you could definitely kiss me."

Brittany does. She leans in, and kisses her, slow and sweet, sucking, just a little on Santana's bottom lip. Santana never really knew what it meant to _swoon,_ but she gets it, when Brittany kisses her like that. She gets it, when Brittany presses her hand to the small of her back, and holds her close, like she knows that her knees are weak, and she thinks she might faint. It's nerve wracking, and sickening, and perfect, all at once.

"Are you leaving?" Brittany murmurs against her lips, the vibrations thrumming through Santana's body and making her toes curl.

"Like ten minutes. I'm just trying to get some things together."

"Do you want to come with me? I can drop you off, or you could have dinner with Liam and I. I put a chicken in the crockpot this morning."

"That's…really domestic." Santana blurts out, then purses her lips and rolls her eyes at herself. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Brittany laughs. "I used to eat every meal out of takeout containers in my office. It still feels domestic for me too. But putting it in a pot in the morning is a _lot_ easier than trying to cook dinner after six back to back surgeries."

"You did _six_ today? I had two, and I feel like I might pass out."

"I can totally drop you home if you want. Don't feel like you _have_ to come over. Last night was a late night."

"No. No, I'll come over and see if you're as good of a cook as you seem to be at _everything_ else."

"Don't hold your breath on that." She shakes her head, still laughing. "So I'll get Li, and meet you downstairs?"

"Yeah." Santana nods, though really, her comment about the domesticity was a _lot_ more than just a statement on Brittany's own situation. It was twist in her stomach. A thump of her heart. A worry, still, that she's intruding in a place that she doesn't belong. But still, she hasn't stopped going against her better judgement when it comes to Brittany. Still, she puts herself at further risk of getting hurt. Still, she falls further for this woman who feels far too perfect, far too _good_ for her. "I'll try and hurry."


	26. Chapter 26

After Santana has dinner with Brittany and Liam, they fall into a sort-of routine. Every evening, Brittany finds Santana in her office. Some nights, Santana comes for dinner. Some, she stays _after_ dinner. Some, Brittany just drops her off at home. But every night, they leave the hospital together. Every night, Santana feels this bizarre dichotomy in her stomach, stuck somewhere between completely settled and absolutely _terrified._

This goes on for several weeks. Spattered in between the crockpot dinners and the nights in Brittany's bed, where it gets harder and harder for Santana to understand just _why_ she insists on crawling out and putting her clothes on sometime after midnight, they go on two dates. Brittany doesn't let Santana pay, and it frustrates her to no end. It makes her heart flutter, but it also goes so deeply against her nature, letting someone else take care of her. Like everything else with Brittany, it's everything she thought she never wanted, but everything she actually does.

In the fourth week, Santana goes back to working nights. As much as Brittany loves them, her department scheduling hasn't allowed for it, and she's stuck indefinitely on days. It feels weird for Santana, coming into the hospital when Brittany is leaving, going home before Brittany even gets there. Brittany's not her girlfriend, or anything. Santana hasn't found the courage to bring up any sort of _labels._ But still, their routine had become comfortable, familiar. Still, she feels a dull sort of sadness at losing out on it.

As summer starts to turn to fall, Santana feels a sort of constant frenetic energy in the emergency room. She loves how fast paced it is. She loves how busy she keeps. She loves doing surgery after surgery, all night long. She loves saving lives. It's why she became a doctor, after all. But the energy buzzes through her when she leaves, and for some reason, it makes her feel more nervous than usual. Like being around Brittany was a balm, and without it, she not sure how to function properly. She hates it. She loves it. She _needs_ it.

Santana's saving grace is having Mercedes on the same schedule as she is. Though Kurt has long been her best friend, there's a certain ease she has around Mercedes Jones. They work well together, a second set of hands in the operating room that doesn't feel foreign. They litter the table in the lounge with coffee cups. Mercedes brings chips, and Santana brings Skittles, and they gossip like middle schoolers. It's a good break, especially at three am, when the night suddenly starts to feel long. And Mercedes doesn't ask about Santana's life, not when Kurt isn't around. She doesn't question who she's texting after midnight, and before sunrise. She just lets her have her own things.

Two weeks into her month of overnights, Santana has only seen Brittany three times. She doesn't know how to clear this hurdle ahead of her. She doesn't know how to _be_ Brittany's. She doesn't even know if Brittany wants to be _hers._ It's all she wants, stronger than she's _ever_ wanted anything, but her fear is great, this giant looming thing, the thought of rejection twisting and turning and eating through her gut. She couldn't even bring herself to spend the night, back when she had nights to spend. How can she possibly bring herself to have this conversation? It's impossible, so she just smiles at Brittany when they meet for breakfast one morning. She just smiles, and hopes that maybe, maybe, Brittany figures out what she wants.

It's two-forty-eight on a Tuesday morning in September, when Santana gets paged 911 to the pit. Hayward and the Vin Diesel gay intern whose name she can never remember—Stanley? Stephen? Something like that—are waiting for her. Hayward looks like she's going to be sick, and the other one is just shaking his head.

"We didn't want to call ACS until you got here." He tells her, and her stomach turns.

"What the hell happened?" She yanks the chart out of his hand, and she blanches at his nearly printed notes. _Religious refusal. Six years old._

"Her grandmother brought her in. She said it's an intestinal tumor, but the parents refused treatment."

"Hayward, call ACS, and page Corcoran 911. Vin Diesel, bring me to the bed."

As soon as Santana sees the patient, she understands why Hayward looked so ill. The chart says the patient is six, but she looks about half that, emaciated and shivering, even in sleep beneath a blanket. Santana looks from the IV to Porter—Spencer Porter, she remembers—and he shakes his head.

"I hooked it up before Mrs. Franklin said anything. I was waiting for you to disconnect it."

"Leave it, until I talk to Shelby." She nods, surveying the situation. "Mrs. Franklin, Dr. Santana Lopez, I'm the attending pediatric surgeon tonight."

"Those two didn't do anything wrong." The woman is quick to tell her. "I wouldn't have even told them, but I didn't know what to say, when they started asking questions. I'm going to tell you right now, I'm probably going to get arrested for kidnapping."

"Okay." Santana pinches the bridge of her nose, and looks to the entryway. These fucking night shifts. "So it's safe to assume her parents don't know she's here."

"No. I took her out for ice cream…in Virginia."

"Dr. Lopez." Jane peeks through the curtain. "Dr. Corcoran is on the phone."

"Excuse me for a minute." She looks to the grandmother of the child, who nods. "Both of you, stay here."

 _Santana._ Shelby's groggy voice comes through the phone. _It's three am, this better be important._

"So, should I start with kidnapping, religious refusal, or…"

 _Jesus Christ. I'm on my way._

To her own dismay, Santana has to order both Hayward and Porter not to touch the child. She doesn't even want them examining her, lest they all end up in serious legal and administrative trouble. When Shelby gets here, they'll take her orders. She's better at this kind of decision making. She knows just what point a patient has to be at, before they have a medical responsibility to intervene. Santana thinks they're _months_ past that point, but she'll wait ten more minutes until Shelby gets there. She plays by the rules, she always has. There's nothing more valuable in her life than her medical license, and she won't risk that, _ever._

Things begin to move quickly, when Shelby gets there. ACS isn't far behind her, and takes that on, leaving Santana to begin an examination on the patient. Examining her isn't administering treatment, at least not yet, but Santana knows, her boss wants every last bit of ammunition in their arsenal when they'll inevitably need a court order to save her life.

It sickens her, as she does the exam. Not the actual medical aspect of it—she's seen diseased ravaged bodies before, after all—but the fact that someone could let their child get to this point. That they could watch her suffer and waste away, and still believe that some higher power will miraculously save her life. She doesn't get it, and not just because she doesn't have faith. She doesn't get it, because how could you possibly not want to do whatever it takes to save your child's life? How could you believe so blindly that you would take any sort of chance?

By the time Shelby finishes with child services, Santana and her two interns have finished a manual exam, and the CAT scan that reveals the expected large mass on her intestine. While they wait for the blood work to come back, Santana gives them both the option to get off the case. Neither of them take her up on it, and it impresses Santana greatly. They're willing to stay the course on something that's bound to get messy. They have, she thinks, what it takes to be great doctors.

At four-thirty-one, the police come. ACS had no choice but to call them, and Santana blanches as the child's grandmother is taken in to custody. The woman keeps her head up though. She knew it was inevitable, she knew just what she was doing. But that's the power of love. She was willing to sacrifice herself, if it meant a chance to save her dying granddaughter. She nods at Santana, as she's cuffed behind her back. Santana nods in return, a silent promise that she'll do everything that she can.

At seven-eleven, Shelby sends Santana home. Santana protests, but Shelby holds out her hand. She tells her to take a nap, and then a shower. To come back by noon, dressed in something she'd wear to court. At that, she ceases her protests. If she's going to keep her promise to the grandmother, she has to follow orders. She has to put her stubbornness aside. It's nearly impossible for her, but it'll be worth it.

Before eight, Santana is in bed. She sends Brittany a text message, telling her the night was a disaster, and she'll call her later. Though she wishes she could, she can't wait for a response. She closes her eyes, and she falls into a deep sleep. She dreams of Liam and Brittany. She dreams of things that don't make her wake up screaming. She dreams of things that help prepare her body for the rest of the day, and when she jolts awake at ten-fifty-three, she feels surprisingly rested.

While she's in the shower, she gets a text from Shelby to meet her downtown in the judge's chambers. This isn't Santana's first emergency child welfare hearing, but that doesn't make it any easier. She slips into a skirt and a suit jacket, and she takes a breath. Every day, Santana's actions save lives. Every day, she makes decisions that some liken to playing God. Actions she can do. Decisions she can do. But words, words she struggles with. Each word she says has to count. Each word decides whether a little girl lives or dies. Each word decides whether or not the actions of her grandmother were for nothing.

Santana sees Hayward and Porter first. Shelby must have sent them home too. They're neat as pins, but they look like kids in adult clothes. Hayward wrings her hands in front of her, and in a surprise moment of tenderness, Santana squeezes her shoulder. She lets her know that it's going to be fine, despite being unsure of it herself. _First, do no harm,_ she murmurs, reminding her that no matter if anything they did last night broke the law, they're upholding their sacred oaths.

It's the parents that Santana sees next. She didn't know what she'd expected, but they look _normal._ They don't look like monsters who'd choose some light in the sky over the life of their child. They don't even look particularly religious. There aren't veils, or long skirts, or gold crosses. They mostly just look travel weary and sleep deprived.

To be the attending physician on a case like this sucks. Shelby sits behind Santana as she presents the records. She takes breath after breath, telling the judge what she's learned in the early morning hours she spent with the child. She describes the GI carcinoid tumor, and the grim prognosis without treatment. She describes the harm that she's already been put in, and the rehabilitation that will be necessary. She describes and describes, because she can't do emotion well, but she'll be damned if she can't do _this._

When it's over, the judge grants her permission to operate. There's a guardian ad litem appointed, and Santana will deal with them. The parents will deal with ACS. The grandmother will hopefully be freed from jail. But that's not for Santana to worry about. All she has to worry about is cutting open this little girl. All she has to worry about is creating an aggressive treatment plan. All she has to worry about is saving this little girl's life. Someone else will handle the rest.

By the time Santana finishes the surgery, it's dark. She's got a mountain of paperwork about it on her desk, but she can't even think straight. Before she can even fully process that she's already begun her next shift, Shelby is sending her home. She's had four hours of sleep in forty-eight, and there's no way she can stand long enough to do another surgery. She's exhausted. She's physically and emotionally exhausted, and though in her head, she tells the cab driver her home address, she's not all that surprised when he pulls up in front of Brittany's.

"Hi." She tries to smile, when Brittany opens the door, but she's so exhausted that it seems impossible. "Sorry I just…I don't even know."

"I saw you on the board this afternoon." Brittany nods, knowingly. "And the McCarthys were gossiping about a kidnapping, so I figured it might be your case. How long has it been since you've slept?"

"Shelby sent me home for like…three hours this morning."

"That's not sleep." Brittany holds the door open, and Santana notices that she's in her pajamas. She doesn't even know what time it is anymore. She's just…disoriented. "Come sit down."

Santana listens. In her state of exhaustion, there's something about the way Brittany takes her hand that makes her think she'd do anything she said. She sits down on the couch, and Brittany takes away her own wine glass. When she reappears from the kitchen, there's a mug in her hand, and she presses it into Santana's, smiling.

"It's chamomile, don't worry."

"Thank you." Santana nods, voice cracking a little, as she takes a sip. "Feels good."

"Do you want to talk about your day?"

"It was a fucking disaster. The hardest part of my job is when kids die, but the second hardest part is when there's stuff like this with parents. Abuse, or neglect…or just…I don't know, whatever this was. I've never had a faith healing patient before, and it makes me feel really fucked up."

"Did the patient…?"

"No. _No._ But she's _six,_ Brittany. Six, and what happens when she wakes up? What happens when she's been told for a _year_ that God would save her, and now she's been cut open? What happens when she realizes that she can't trust the people who were supposed to take care of her? What happens if she doesn't even _have_ them anymore?"

"Santana." There's something soothing about Brittany's voice, and when she opens her arm, Santana finds herself sliding over on the couch. She's too tired to fight her own mind, she's too tired to fight anything, and she leans into Brittany, letting her hug her.

"I know, I know, I'm probably overthinking it. I mean, it's not my business or anything, and like, she's got her grandmother, and a case worker now, and a GAL, but, I don't know…"

"I wasn't going to say you were overthinking it at all." Brittany promises, trailing her fingers up and down Santana's arm. "The passion you have for your job is something that I really admire about you. I'm sorry that this was your day."

"It's fine. It's whatever. I just have to put my own shit aside right now. I don't know, I'm just really exhausted. I should go. I just…I need to sleep."

"You can sleep here if you want, Santana. I can make up the guest room for you, if you want, or…you're more than welcome to sleep with me."

"I—" Santana begins to formulate a list of reasons in her head why she _can't,_ but…she just doesn't _want_ to go home. "Okay."

Santana finishes her tea. While she's doing it, Brittany slips away slowly. When Santana goes upstairs to the bathroom, she has to smile to herself, even exhausted. On the sink, there's a new toothbrush. There's a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. There's a stack of towels. It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her, she thinks. Maybe that's pathetic, but it doesn't matter. Brittany did it for her. Brittany cares enough to make sure she's well taken care of. Brittany is…something else entirely.

She takes a shower. It feels good to rinse the day off of her, it always does. She washes her hair, even, Brittany's honeysuckle shampoo filling her nostrils. When she gets out, her limbs are heavy, her bones are heavy, her eyelids are heavy. She towels off, and she slides into Brittany's clothes. They're too big, but they're just what she needs. They're too big, and yet, they're just right. She engulfed, she's cozy, she's cared for. At the sink, she swallows her pills. Ambien first, and then the others. Her mind is still racing, but they'll help. They have to.

Brittany is under the covers when Santana goes back into the other room. It sets her heart racing, seeing that. If coming for crockpot dinners is domestic, this is something else. The Santana who isn't exhausted would be terrified. The Santana who isn't exhausted would run screaming. But to Santana right now, Santana who can barely stand on her own two feet, that bed looks so inviting. Brittany's arms look so inviting. And the idea of her empty apartment? That seems absolutely terrifying. It doesn't matter that they don't have a label. It doesn't matter that Santana doesn't do sleepovers. Right now, there's nothing else she needs more than _this._

"Shower okay?" Brittany asks, once Santana gets into bed. This is weird. So weird. They didn't have sex. They're not dating. And yet, here Santana is, closing her eyes on Brittany's pillow, closing her eyes as Brittany—in her glasses, of course—leans against the headboard, reading beside her. But the bed is so soft and inviting. Brittany is so soft and inviting, and she can already tell, she's going to sleep so well.

"Mmhm. Yeah." Santana feels the Ambien hitting her, and she tries to push her eyes back open. "Sorry, I just…Ambien."

"Got it. Don't I know how fast it knocks you out." There's a chuckle in Brittany's voice. "I won't make you fight it. Goodnight, Santana."


	27. Chapter 27

When Santana wakes up, late in the morning after she sleeps over Brittany's, she's mortified. Not only had she gone over there uninvited, and fell asleep in Brittany's bed _without_ any of the precursors that usually lead up to a first sleepover, but also, Brittany has long left for work, while she remained completely cut off from the world. All she can hope is that she didn't drool, or snore, or talk in her sleep.

She's never experienced something like this, being alone in someone's house, and she sits upright, as soon as she realizes the time. She should leave. She doesn't belong here. She's not even Brittany's _girlfriend._ She's just someone that she's maybe-kinda-sorta dating. She just…feels like an intruder. But then, then she notices a page torn from a notebook, sitting on the nightstand. Then, she has to take a breath, before she can even pick up the torn sheet.

 _Hey!_

Didn't want to wake you—you really needed the sleep!

Feel free to hang out as long as you want. Coffee is in the pot, there's a plate in the microwave, and I left the remote out, in case you wanted to watch TV.

We'll be home by seven, but I'm sure you're working tonight. Text me, let me know you're okay.

—B

Like she's been burned, Santana drops the note. Then she picks it up again. She turns it over in her hands, and she wonders if it would be weird if she saved it. Probably. But that doesn't stop her from folding it up, from slipping it into her bag, when she gets up from Brittany's bed.

She doesn't stay long. Despite Brittany's invitation, she feels strange doing it. Instead, she makes the bed. She smooths down the comforter, slowly, carefully. She fluffs the pillows, and tugs at the shams. She folds the blanket that was kicked off the foot of the bed. She steps back, and then she makes it all up again, dissatisfied with how it looks.

After the fourth try, she accepts it for how it is, and she goes into the bathroom. She changes back into her clothes from the night before, though she feels like they still reek with the trauma of her day. She splashes water on her face, and she brushes her teeth. She's not sure what to do with the toothbrush Brittany gave her, or the clothes she wore, so she leaves them on the bathroom counter. Brush parallel to the sink, and clothes neatly folded beside it.

Downstairs, she finds the coffee in the pot. When she sees the mug that Brittany left out for her, it takes her a minute to process. On it, there's a picture of Liam, just born, and swaddled in yellow. _Number One Aunt,_ it reads, and something about that jars Santana. She forgets that Liam wasn't born with Brittany as his mother. She forgets the great loss Brittany suffered. She forgets, because Brittany is natural with her son. She forgets, because Brittany dwells on her personal tragedy less than anyone she's ever met.

While she drinks her coffee, Santana peers into the microwave. It's after one, but the pancakes that were left for her still make her mouth water. She remembers what Brittany said, about wanting to make her breakfast, and it chokes her up. Brittany might not be here to share it with her, but she left it. That tenderness is something she needs. She's fragile today. Or, she's fragile, perhaps _always,_ and Brittany wants to take care of her. Brittany wants to make her feel different than anyone else ever has.

She washes her dishes, and she leaves. The door locks behind her, and she stands on the stoop for a minute. There's a strange twisting in the pit of her stomach. A twisting different than her usual anxiety, her usual hesitation. This one, she can't place, this one, it doesn't come from any sort of feeling that she's familiar with. This one, it should terrify her, but it doesn't.

At six o'clock, she goes to work. She hopes she might run into Brittany, but she doesn't. She hopes to tell her that last night, she slept better than she ever has, but she can't. She can't, both because she doesn't see her, and because she knows that even if she _did,_ her words would twist and garble, her words would never say what it was that she meant.

Santana's attention is mainly on Samantha Franklin. She has a tonsillectomy and a splenectomy that she gives to Rose and Adams. The adrenal tumor she had to remove has to be done by her, but before and after, she's focused on her patient in the most critical condition. The interns can handle post-op, the residents can handle the pit, she needs to figure out how best to save this child, now that she's made it through first of what may be many surgeries.

She researches. It's the hardest way to spend the night. Even with cup after cup after cup of coffee, Santana feels herself fading. She looks at her phone, and sees that she missed a call from Brittany three hours ago. Now, it's nearly two-am. Now, it's _way_ too late to call her back. But there's a voicemail. A voicemail that makes her heart flutter, and her droopy eyes perk up.

Pushing aside the stack of articles she'd printed, she leans back in her chair. She's careful, always, not to wipe the smudge from her pen from the site of her hand to her face, and she dials in, listening to Brittany say she was just checking in. Listening to Brittany say that she hopes she's feeling a little better. Listening to Brittany say that she hopes her night hasn't been too long. They're off tomorrow, both of them, and she listens, smile spreading across her face, when Brittany asks if Santana would let her take her to breakfast before she goes home to sleep.

Santana sends a text, just saying _Yeah, totally. Breakfast is good,_ before she goes back to work. The good news is, Samantha is sleeping. Santana checks her anyway, twice an hour, just because that's how she is. Every time, she sees her grandmother, sound asleep on the cot. Every time, she says a few silent words of thanks to her. Thanks for saving a child Santana doesn't even know. Thanks for standing up for what she believed was right. Thanks for being unafraid to remove her from a dangerous environment, without fear of consequences.

When the sun comes up, Santana is just about finished writing her out her treatment plan. So much of it involves bringing Samantha Franklin out of her emaciated state, before they can do much of anything to continue the treatment of her cancer. So at eight-am, Santana meets with a dietitian. She's exhausted, but she's excited too. As soon as this is done, she'll see Brittany.

Santana expects Brittany to meet her at the diner across the street from the hospital at nine-thirty. That was the plan they'd made. So when Brittany is standing outside of the door to Santana's office, long cream sweater draped over dark jeans. She smiles, as Santana approaches her, and Santana can do nothing but shrug a little, and yank a hand through her hair. It's one of those things she doesn't understand. The way she can kiss Brittany, have sex with Brittany, fall asleep in Brittany's bed, but she can't manage to greet her without her body contorting into awkward positions.

"Pre-breakfast coffee?" Brittany holds out a cup to her. "I know you hate diner coffee."

"I do." Her mouth twists into a sort-of half smile. "Thanks. Lemme just…uh, grab my stuff."

Brittany nods, and Santana sweeps her papers up from her desk, trying to be quick, while keeping her research neat. Feeling the pressure, she decides not to take everything with her. She probably won't even have a chance to look over anything at home later. She usually doesn't, but, she always brings what she's working on. It's a _thing,_ she guesses. Her work is important to her, so she guards it. It's a crazy thing, but in the scheme of things, it's one of her smallest idiosyncrasies.

"Okay. I'm ready." She looks up at Brittany, leaning up against the office door. It's the way she always stands, hip against the frame, arms across her chest, and it makes Santana smile. It puts her at ease in a way. It reminds her of the way Brittany shakes her hair out and props her head up on her hand in bed. It's a totally different stance, obviously, but the casual way she does both, they're similar. "Hey, where's Liam?"

"Oh? Liam? Hmm. Must have forgot him somewhere." Brittany looks around, wry grin on her mouth. "He's with Artie."

"Artie?" Alarm bells go off on Santana's head. Her neck sweats. Her heart races. Her stomach turns. She feels like she might be sick. Did she miss something so blatantly obvious? Is she just—

"Dr. Abrams. Neuro?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. Totally." Her voice wavers as she speaks, and Brittany steps into the room, kicking the door closed behind her.

"Are you okay? Is there something wrong with him? Because if you tell me there is, I'll go get Liam right now."

"No. No. He's totally nice. Great. Awesome. Yeah. I mean, I'm totally happy for you."

"Santana. What are you talking about?"

"I didn't realize you were seeing someone, that's all."

"Oh my God." Brittany laughs, almost as if she can't help it. "Santana, are you oblivious to everything?"

"Apparently." She mutters, swallowing back tears.

"Hey, look at me." When Brittany steps into Santana's space, she cringes. She fights the urge to flee. But Brittany is between her and the door. Brittany is trapping her in her own mortification simply by being present. "Do you actually think I'm dating Artie Abrams?"

"Aren't you?"

"Santana Lopez, sometimes I wish I were a neurologist so I could look inside your brain, and see just how it works."

"Uh…thanks? I guess?"

"You're brilliant." Brittany takes her hands gently, and Santana is powerless to pull them away. "But you manage to get yourself so tangled up in knots, that I'm not sure how you get yourself from point A to point B. Especially given how fast you do it."

"You still haven't answered."

"You're right, I haven't. I'm not dating Artie. Artie is _gay,_ and Liam plays with his _daughter,_ so he offered to take them to the park for a few hours this morning. And even if he _wasn't_ gay, I wouldn't be interested. I'm not sure you know this, but I'm dating someone else."

"Oh." Santana isn't sure an actual word. She's not sure she's capable of words. Stupid. She feels so stupid. She should never have let her guard down. She should have never done this. Stupid. So stupid.

"You. Santana, I'm dating _you._ At least I _thought_ I was."

" _Me?_ I mean…I told you, Brittany. I'm terrible at all of this. I have no idea what's going on with us. I'm an emotional infant. I bet _Liam_ knows how to handle his feelings better than I do, and he threw a tantrum because you said he couldn't have cake _and_ ice cream the last time I was over for dinner. And you being _you_ just makes me feel even more like that, because you're so…collected."

"What's going on with us is that my feelings for you get stronger every day. I think about you all the time. I feel like I'm thirteen, when I look at my phone, and I feel tachycardic when I see a new message from you. I don't want to come on too strong and freak you out, so I force myself not to come to your office when we're on the same shift and bring you lunch, and I force myself not to send you Insomnia Cookies or flowers now that you're working overnights. Being around you makes me feel _really_ good, and really…I guess, to quote Phoebe Buffay, _floopy._ If I come off still collected on the outside, it's because I'm trying _really_ hard not to be a total dork."

"Why…" Santana stops herself, before she asks the question that she keeps asking, and when Brittany laughs knowingly, she laughs too. "Why do you make me want to kiss you all the time?"

"I dunno." She shrugs, smile spreading further across her face. "Maybe 'cuz you really like me too?"

"I do. I used to be really irritated by it, but now…I don't know, you just make me feel _safe._ I don't think I've ever felt like that before, and then last night, in your bed, I was just…okay for once."

"So…if I asked you to be my girlfriend, what would you say?"

"Are you asking me that just so I don't have another near nervous breakdown when I think you might be dating someone else?"

"No." Brittany shakes her head, still laughing. "You opened up the window for me now, but it's kinda why I asked you to breakfast. I didn't want to wait until we had time for a dinner date to do it, and I wasn't going to send you a text about it."

"Okay." Santana scrubs her face with her hands, collecting herself, before she looks back in Brittany's eyes.

"Okay…"

"Okay, yes. Yeah. Uh huh. I want to be your girlfriend, kind of a lot."

"Good, because I want that a lot too."


	28. Chapter 28

_Girlfriend._ It's such a weird world. It's such a weird _thing_ for Santana to conceptualize. She's spent all of her adult life avoiding any sort of feelings, and then came Brittany. The feelings Santana has for her are so real, so _raw,_ that becoming her girlfriend almost doesn't feel like enough. She can't verbalize it, but it's dragging her under. And the strangest part is, she's not even afraid anymore.

For the first week, Santana doesn't really know how to process it. She loves that she can go into Brittany's office before she leaves in the morning and just…kiss her. She loves the idea that when she goes to get coffee at eleven-thirty at night, Brittany calls her, all sleepy and in bed. She loves that Brittany texts her pictures of drawings that Liam made for her, scribbles in every color of the rainbow. She loves that when she's done with nights next week, she'll be able to have dinner with Brittany, to lay on her couch with her, to read bedtime stories to Liam. She loves that she'll be able to make love to her, and for the first time afterwards, fall asleep in her bed. She loves that there's someone out there who's _hers._ But still, there are things she's just unsure about.

The hospital, for one. They still haven't told anyone that they're dating…well, Santana hasn't, though she has a sneaking suspicion that Dr. Abrams knows. Brittany told her that they're not breaking and rules, but still, Santana worries. Still, Santana makes sure the shades in Brittany's office are drawn, when she goes to kiss her good morning before she leaves for the day. Still, Santana is terrified that they could be doing something that could destroy one or both of their careers. Still, Santana feels jumpy, whenever Shelby is around. Still, Santana pointedly avoids telling both Kurt and Mercedes, for fear that one of them will accidentally slip to the wrong person.

The second is Maribel Lopez. Santana's relationship with her mother is _fine._ She doesn't hold a grudge against the woman for the years of hell they went through. It's not Maribel's fault, really, that her ex-husband was an emotionally abusive piece of shit. If anything, Santana's mother suffered it even greater than _she_ did. She wrote letters to the judge in her mother's divorce case, stating as much. But still, they're not particularly close. Santana loves her, of course. She goes up to Peekskill for every holiday, and usually once a month, but like everyone else in her life—Brittany, not included—Santana acts out of self-preservation, and she keeps her mother at an arm's length.

So naturally, when her mother calls her at the start of her last nightshift, Santana feels a sort of panic bubble low in her belly. She doesn't understand how normal people go through life _without_ these feelings—though her therapist has repeatedly told her to _stop_ referring to them as normal, and herself as not—because it's such an all-encompassing presence for her. It's not about keeping it a secret. Not at all. God, she'd tell the whole world she Dr. Brittany Susan Pierce's girlfriend if she could. But it's just the _how_ of it. It's the breaking down her own walls. It's the suddenly letting people in, when she never has before.

"Hi, Ma." She answers, flipping through the office supply catalogue that someone left in her office. "How are you?"

" _I'm good, Santana. How are you doing?"_

"I'm fine. Working right now."

" _Right. You told me that last time I talked to you. I forgot."_ There's an awkward pause, and Santana focuses her attention on the seventy-three varieties of Post-It notes on the glossy pages in front of her.

"So what's up, Mama?"

" _Not so much. I was just calling to see what you're doing tomorrow. I have a meeting in the city, and I was hoping to see you."_

"Tomorrow?" She swallows hard. She and Brittany hadn't made _official_ plans, but…they're both off, and she'd kind of figured that they'd spend the day together. "Uh…"

" _If you have plans, Santana, it's fine. Don't change things around on my account."_

"No, uh…" Santana falters. She knows her mom really tries to build a better relationship with her. She knows she tries to get past those ironclad walls Santana surrounds herself with. She knows that she _wants_ to be close with her, and Santana feels really awful saying no. "No, we can get together. It's just…I, uh. I need to tell you something."

" _Did you move again?"_ Maribel asks, bringing up the time Santana had lived in her apartment for three months, before she remembered to tell anyone she had moved from her downtown studio.

"No, I'm still in the same place. I just, um…I met someone, and we started dating, and now, we're, uh, more serious?"

" _So you have a girlfriend?"_ Santana can hear the excitement in her mother's voice, and we feels heat creep up her neck and into her face. _"Oh, Santana. That's wonderful! Does she work with you?"_

"Yeah…she's, uh, the head of plastics. She's really, _really_ smart, and she's gorgeous and the sweetest person I've ever met."

" _Plastics."_ Maribel repeats the word. _"And you're…"_

"Yeah. Yeah. She's not like… _his_ friends." She doesn't use her father's name, she doesn't use terms of endearment for him. He's just… _him._ "She's really something else."

" _And does she have a name?"_

"Brittany." Santana smiles, as her name rolls off her lips. "Brittany Pierce. But don't, like, find her on Facebook or anything and send her a friend request, okay?"

" _I wouldn't, honey."_ Maribel promises. _"But would she like to join us for dinner tomorrow? I was hoping we could go early, if that works with your schedule."_

"Early's fine. But, I'm not sure about Brittany. She, um, actually has a kid, and it's her day off, so I don't think she'd want to leave him with a sitter."

" _She could bring him. I'm not offended by children, Santana."_

"No, no, I know you're not, it's just…" Santana sighs, raking her hand through her hair. "Let me just talk to her, and I'll figure something out, okay,"

" _Whatever you want, honey. I just want to see you, and I'd like to meet your girlfriend if I can too. But if not, it's fine."_

Santana knows her mother isn't trying to make her feel guilty. She knows she just takes a genuine interest in her life. But still, as she hangs up, she feels twisty and conflicted inside. She doesn't want Brittany to feel like she has to leave Liam. She doesn't want her to feel _obligated_ to meet Santana's mother, or have dinner with them. She doesn't want her to feel forced to make Liam sit through some dinner, she she's sure he'd rather be home eating a hot dog or spaghetti and meatballs. But on the other hand, Santana doesn't want Brittany to think she doesn't _want_ her to meet her mother. She doesn't want Brittany to think that her weirdness about their relationship extends past the hospital. And she, for her own sake, doesn't want Brittany not to come.

So she calls Brittany. She whispers for her to hold on into the phone, and Santana knows she's crawling out of Liam's bed. She pictures her, soft and cozy in her pajamas, her hair swept off her face. She feels a pang in her chest at the thought, wishing she was there. When she come back on the line, Santana invites her to dinner. She tells her everything about the conversation, and she waits, full of twisting anxiety, for Brittany to give her an answer.

Because she's Brittany, and she manages to turn every sort of crisis that Santana has into an actual solution, she makes a suggestion. Invite her mother over to her apartment. She'll help Santana cook. Liam will finally get to see the place he's been begging to go. Santana will feel less anxious about everything, when she does it all on her own terms. Sometimes it scares Santana, how well Brittany knows her, how much she's got her tics figured out. But these days, mostly, it makes her really happy. These days, mostly, it makes her feel so settled and secure.

Santana gets off of work, and she wants to sleep. She knows if she took enough Ambien, she could sleep until it was dark again. But she can't. She knows it's bad for her body, but she gives herself three hours to nap. She has to transition back to days, and the best way for her to do it is to sleep tonight. Plus, Brittany is coming at one. Brittany is going to help her cook dinner for her mom. Brittany is coming _here,_ into Santana's space with her _son,_ and she'll be damned if she leaves it it disaster.

When she wakes up, Santana brushes her teeth, and she starts to clean up. She bags her laundry to be picked up, she changes her sheets, she dusts behind the TV, though she's sure she never has before. It's just after eleven when she finishes with all of that, and she jumps in the shower. More than anything, she's concerned about shaving, so while the conditioner seeps into the pores of her hair, she goes over her legs two, then three times, making sure she didn't miss a single spot.

It's only noon when she finishes getting dressed, and diffusing her thick curls. The groceries she'd frantically ordered late last night from her office computer won't be there until after Brittany and Liam show up, so she has some time. Giving the apartment one last once over, she goes out to the liquor on the corner. She buys four bottles of wine—her mom's favorite red and white, and Brittany's favorite red and white—before she ends up getting sucked into the toy store next door. Three-hundred dollars later, she has two big bags full. Three-hundred dollars later, she has trains and DVDs and art supplies, a soft stuffed turtle, and a woodland creatures fleece blanket. Things that can stay at her apartment. Things for Liam, so he always feels welcome there too. She's making room for Brittany in her life, and she wants Liam to know that she's making room for him too.

 _Doccer Santana! Doccer Santana!_ Santana hears through the phone, when Ken calls to let her know that her guests are here. She has the white wine chilling, and Liam's new things are stacked up neatly on the coffee table. They're here, this is happening, and Santana has to take breath after breath to remind herself that this is a _good_ thing, that she can calm down.

"We're here! We're here!" Liam shouts, when Santana opens the door, and though Brittany tries to shush him, a smile spreads across her face.

"What? Huh? I can't see anyone here." Santana teases, but he wraps his arms tight around her legs, making his presence known. "Oh! There you are. Hello, sir."

"Why you always callin' me _sir?_ " He giggles. "Remember? I always telled you my name?"

"Oh, right. I forgot. It's Liam Connolly Pierce right?" She feigns trying to remember, and he keeps giggling. "I think you look like that name, but I also think you look like a _sir,_ especially in that bow tie."

"You can say I'm _sir,_ if you really, really _really_ want to." He grins, showing his little teeth, as he plays with his little green tie. "And Mama gived me this. She says we gonna meet _your_ mama! I didn't even know you _haved_ a mama!"

"I do." Santana kneels and hugs him close. "Her name is Maribel, and I think she's going to think that you're the best guy in the world. I think before she gets here though, you should go check out some of the cool new stuff that appeared here for you today."

"How you maked all that appear?" His little eyes go wide as he looks at the coffee table. "That's magic!"

"Looks like Santana's pretty good at magic." Brittany winks, though when she looks at Santana, she shakes her head, awed.

"Hi." She whispers, once Liam is sufficiently distracted, picking, with his left hand, through the neat stack. Santana is uncertain what to do, or whether it's okay if she kisses Brittany. She's never done it in front of Liam before, but…before she can think, soft lips her on hers, and she hums against them. "That's a good _hi._ "

"You're cute." Brittany tucks a fallen lock of Santana's hair behind her ear, and Santana sucks her lips into her mouth, blinking quickly. "You didn't have to do that."

"I…I dunno, I wanted him to feel comfortable here."

"I think—" She cocks her head over to Liam, spreading his new blanket over himself on the couch. "That you were really successful. Thank you, Santana. Really."

"Is it…it's okay if I kiss you again? With him here?"

"Of course it is. Liam knows…I asked him if he was okay with it, and he looked at me like I had six heads. He said 'Mama! I knowed she's not a boy,' and that was that."

"I guess it's that easy then." Santana leans in, brushing Brittany's nose with her own, then catching her bottom lip. "I'm _really_ glad you're here."

It's different, having Brittany and Liam over. Santana has cooked in her kitchen exactly two times, once, because she was trying to prove a point to Kurt that she actually could, and the second, because she got on a seventeen hour kick, thinking she'd stop living out of takeout containers and on hospital food. But here she is, rolling meatballs with Liam—or, really, turning his meat snakes into balls. Here she is, watching Brittany as she puts never-used spices into a pot of simmering sauce. Here she is, brushing her front against Brittany's back, as she goes to the sink to wash her hands. Here she is, so new in this relationship, but feeling such a level of comfort that she can barely comprehend.

When the apartment phone rings, with Ken announcing that her mother is here, Santana is sitting on the living room floor with Liam and his trains. She feels Brittany's eyes on her, as she sips her wine, but she can't look in her direction. It's too much, sometimes, the way she looks at her. It's too much, sometimes, the way she makes her feel. She pushes herself to her feet, and Liam is quick to follow, trailing her to the door, waiting, waiting, waiting for a new friend to arrive.

"Hi, lady!" He chirps, when Santana opens the door. Her mother steps inside, all in black, with diamonds on her wrist, and Liam is immediately taken. "Whoa! Sparkles!"

"And what might your name be, sir?" Maribel smiles at him, and Santana steps back a few inches, not noticing her own protective haunch over the boy.

"Doccer Santana!" Liam giggles. "Why you telleded her 'bout my name is _sir?_ "

"Is your name not _sir?_ My deepest apologies." Maribel's eyes sparkle, as she feigns formality with the bow tie clad child.

"You silly! Doccer Santana! Mama! She so silly! My name is Liam Connowee Pierce. Only Doccer Santana say it's _sir._ "

"Well, Liam Connolly Pierce, it's a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a handsome boy." She leans down and extends her hand. Liam takes it with his left, and he shakes it vigorously. "I'm Maribel Carlotta Lopez."

"That's a big name." His eyes go wide, and Santana feels Brittany step to her side, the ghost of fingertips brushing the small of her back.

"How about you just call me Mari instead?"

"Okey! And you just say I Liam, okey? Then I showed you my new trains?"

"Okay." She nods, laughing, as she stands up.

"Hey, Ma." Santana shrugs a little, that nervous sort of thing she does, eyes following Liam as he goes back to his toys.

"Hi, baby girl." She leans in, hugging Santana tight. "What a charming little guy he is."

"Thank you." Brittany nods, reaching to take Maribel's hand. "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Lopez."

"Maribel, please." Maribel shakes her head. "And the pleasure is _all_ mine. I've been waiting Santana's—"

"Mama!" Santana snaps, her body tensing up, even with Brittany's shoulder brushing her own. "Wine?"

"Of course. Red?"

"Mmhm." She turns away and goes into the kitchen, taking a gulp of her own that she'd left on the counter, steadying herself, before she pours a glass for her mother.

"Santana." Brittany's voice breaks her from her thoughts before she even has the opportunity to begin obsessing, and she bites her bottom lip. "Do you need any help?"

"Pouring wine?"

"Sure, why not?" Brittany chuckles a little, moving to Santana's side, and squeezing her shoulders. "Mostly though, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine." She rolls her eyes, mostly at herself, and takes another sip from her glass. "Totally fine."

"It's okay if you're nervous, you know." Her nose nudges Santana's ear. "I was nervous when you met my parents, and you were just some girl from the hospital then."

"Why were you nervous then?" Santana turns around, shivering when Brittany's hands find purchase on her hips.

"I love my mom and dad more than almost anything, but they can be a little…different. I just wanted to impress you. I was terrified that my mother would tell the story of the day I was born and you'd be horrified."

"Well, now I want to know what it is." A laugh bubbles out of Santana's throat, and she feels her anxiety releasing with it.

"It involves a barn, a cow, and a sandwich wrapper. I'll save it for her. She _really_ likes to tell it."

"You'll let her?"

"I will." Brittany nods, kissing Santana's forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her lips. "Because I know it's not going to scare you away."

"How?"

"Faith." She whispers against her lips. "Have some in me too, okay? I know it's hard for you to believe, but I'm not going anywhere. I don't know if I've told you today, but you're really, _really_ special to me, and I think that I'm—"

"Mama!" Liam's voice cuts through their moment, and Brittany takes a step back, but doesn't break eye contact with Santana for several more seconds. "We makeded a bridge! Come see! Come see!"

"Okay, Li." Brittany gives Santana a nod, and her hand a quick squeeze, before she turns back to the living room. "Let's go see."


	29. Chapter 29

_I think that I'm— I think that I'm— I think that I'm—_ for days, Santana replays those four words over and over in her head. Brittany doesn't bring it up again. Not after dinner, when Liam plays with Maribel as Santana loads the dishwasher with Brittany. Not later that night, when they make out, fully clothed on Santana's bed, while Liam sleeps on the couch. Not the next night either, not even after Santana lays, totally spent on Brittany's pillow, and she feels blue eyes piercing into her. She doesn't say anything, and Santana doesn't ask, though it drives her absolutely _mad_ with suspense.

Being back on days means that Santana's caseload increases. She still hasn't been able to operate further on little Sammy Franklin, but she's gaining weight every day, and the next steps of her treatment plan are in place. She's got two cases with Dr. Holiday, who still tries to convince her to get another board certification in neonatal surgery. It's something she's considered, especially given how well she works with such a prolific maternal surgeon—Santana watched her do a uterine transplant, then two years later, deliver _triplets_ from it—but she's _so_ good at peds that she worries that she'll never live up to her own standards in another field. But Santana will take cases with Holly's full term babies. She's confident in _that_ at least.

"So, girlfriend, what's up with you?" Holly asks, as they're scrubbing in for a delivery, followed by a heart valve repair on the newborn.

"What?" Santana stops, mid-scrub to look at the wry smile on Holly's face. "Nothing's _up._ "

"Really? 'Cuz I've seen a lot of ladies in love, mostly with me, of course, and you've been walking around this place like you're floating on air. I almost didn't recognize you without your slumpy walk and that sulk thing you've usually got going on."

"I'm not—" Santana scrunches up her nose, and tries not to look alarmed at her own realization— _I think that I'm_ —but she's fairly certain that she's unsuccessful. Her poker face is absolutely _awful,_ and it makes her panic more. "Just because I'm in a half-decent mood doesn't mean I'm suddenly all schmoopy and in love."

"Okay then. If you say so."

It bugs Santana through the surgery. It makes her skin crawl. She likes Holly. She admires Holly. She _trusts_ Holly. But still, she doesn't like anyone being interested in her business. She doesn't like when anyone points out things that she hasn't shared about herself. She doesn't like that she's _obvious_ in her affections, even if—at least she hopes—not one has noticed that those affections are specifically for one Dr. Brittany Pierce. Those affections, she certainly has but…love? That big, scary l-word feels heavy on her tongue, even before she tries to say it. Does she l…love Brittany? Is that…is that what Brittany was going to say, before they were interrupted in the kitchen? _I think that I'm—_ falling in love with you? Could it be? Santana shakes her head as she pulls off her scrub cap. She keeps shaking it as she walks down the hall to her office. She keeps shaking it, even as she smiles at the message on her phone sitting on her desk— _Meet me in my office at 6? Made beef stew this morning. :*_

She's still shaking her head, at least, internally, throughout the rest of the day, and right on through packing her things to leave. It's too big, too much. Her feelings, and the idea that maybe Brittany has similar ones. She doesn't know how to process them, not in the slightest. Really, she considers skipping dinner. Really, she considers holing up in her apartment with takeout and a marathon of _Jane the Virgin._ What if Brittany is in love with her? What if Brittany _isn't_ in love with her? Either scenario seems entirely too terrifying.

"Hey." Brittany looks up from her computer, when Santana comes in to her office, hands wrung behind her back. "Give me five…maybe ten-ish minutes?"

"Everything okay?" Santana notices the crease in Brittany's forehead, and the way her glasses are perched on her nose.

"Yeah, just budgetary paperwork. I'm a little behind because I'm down a surgeon."

"You didn't tell me that." Sitting down on the cream leather couch across from Brittany's desk, Santana picks at her cuticles.

"I have been since I started." She shrugs. "I haven't interviewed anyone who really seems like a good fit."

"So a plastics guy who isn't a dick?" Brittany winces at Santana's words, and she immediately feels bad. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I mean, it's true, but…"

"I don't mean _you._ "

"I know you don't. But really, Santana, I'm not an outlier. I've got a great department, and the exception of maybe Evans, who has some kind of obsession with pectoral augmentation, they share my vision for what plastics means. How do I make you see that?"

"I…I don't know, Brittany."

"Come here." She whispers, eyes flickering to the closed blinds as Santana stands up, and slowly approaches her desk.

Santana still wrings her hands as she stands there, but Brittany separates them gently, tilting her head up to look Santana in the eyes. At the look in them, Santana's heart rate quickens. She's giving her that look, that one that's just _too much_ for her. Thumbs trail up her thighs, over her stomach, and fall to rest just below her breasts, grazing the underside of them. Santana gasps a little, like she always does, but Brittany doesn't tear her eyes away.

"Just wanted to remind you that you're beautiful."

"I—"

"You. Are. Beautiful." Brittany kisses her between each word. "No matter what you think, no matter what anyone ever told you. You're gorgeous, every bit of you."

"Why are you—?" Santana laughs at herself before she can finish her sentences. "How do you make me feel like this?"

"If it's anything like _you_ make _me_ feel, then I have absolutely no idea."

"I don't think you ever don't have the answers." She whispers, not because she's trying to keep quiet, but because she can't seem to make her voice any louder. "That's really weird."

"L—feelings are weird. But I have them for you, lots of them." Brittany shakes her head, reminded, Santana thinks of her work, of what they were just talking about. "Most of us aren't like that, Santana. Not just me."

"Okay."

"Don't placate me. I know you don't believe it."

"I'll try to believe it. For you."

"I—" Brittany sucks in a breath. "Believe it for _you._ Believe it so you can sleep better at night."

"That probably won't happen." She shakes her head, letting out a small, bitter chuckle. "I take Ambien. That's how I sleep."

"I know."

"You…how?" Santana sucks in a breath, this crushing weight resting on her chest. She wonders how she knows. She wonders if she knows about the other medication. She wonders—

"You told me. The night you first slept over, after you'd already taken it."

"Oh." She breathes in, she breathes out. She tries to calm herself down. She tries not to look as frenzied as she feel. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it bother me? We all do what we have to do to get by. We're doctors, we fix things. You have trouble sleeping, you take something to help."

"How do you make everything so simple, Britt?" It's the first time Santana shortens her name like that, and she watches Brittany's eyes crinkle at it. She hasn't told her everything, she's not ready yet, but it's a start.

"Because most of the time, it's simpler than you think." She brushes hair off Santana's face, and turns back to her computer. "I guess I'll just work on this tomorrow."

"No, no. Finish it. I'll run down and get some coffee. You want?"

"I always do."

Santana goes downstairs. Her knees have a gelatin feeling to them. She thinks that maybe, maybe, Brittany almost said the l-word again. She thinks maybe, maybe she actually _wanted_ her to. Truthfully, she's not sure what she'd say back if she did. She's not sure how she'd react at all. But there's just something about this woman. Something that makes her believe she won't run. Something that makes her believe that she'd kiss her, and even if she couldn't say it back just yet, Brittany would _know._

When they leave the hospital, Brittany still seems a little stressed. Santana isn't really sure how to handle that, because Brittany always seems so together, so she tries to give her space. She opens the wine bottle for her, and she pours it nearly to the top. She kisses her lips, and thinks about how she'd feel, if she accidentally said the words she's trying to process, how they _both_ would feel. She even tells her to go play with Liam, and she'll make the rice to go with the stew. She singes it at the bottom, but still, it's a solid effort, and it makes Brittany smile. That's all Santana wants, she realizes. Not just today, but every day. She wants Brittany to smile. She wants Brittany to smile at _her._ It makes her feel warm inside. It makes her feel cared about, cherished…and something bigger.

Santana helps with bath time. She's never done that before, but Liam begs her to come see his new _submamine._ He begs her, and when he looks up at Santana with those big, dark eyes, she's powerless to say no to him.

It doesn't shock Santana, when Liam is undressed and in the water just how much of his body is scarred. Frankly, she'd actually thought it might be _more,_ given the scarring on his face, but still, it's jarring. Not the sight of his injuries, but once again, at the fact that this tiny little boy probably shouldn't even be alive right now. That the sheer force of a mother's love is why he's sitting here, splashing the woman who stepped into very big shoes. It's a beautiful thing, and a strange moment for Santana. A moment where she sees physical scars for what they truly are, marks of a survivor.

She's interested in his right arm. At the stage she's at in her relationship, she doesn't feel comfortable asking Brittany, but still, she's curious. Visibly, there's no sign of anything that would prevent the use of it, no out of place bones or scarring beyond what marks everywhere else. But she sees the atrophied muscle, she sees how even in the bath, sloshing and dipping his submarine below the surface of the water, Liam makes no effort to use it. It's an extremity he barely recognizes, she thinks, it's an extremity that for his entire memorable life has served no functional purpose.

It's always awkward after Liam's bedtime. That's Santana's own issue, she knows, but tonight feels especially so. Tonight feels full of unsaid words, of unfelt feelings. Tonight feels like a precipice. Tonight…tonight means something, Santana can feel it. Tonight means something, and Santana is trying with all she has in her to feel unafraid.

"Are you…?" Brittany trails off, the same question she asks Santana every night she's there.

"If you want me to." Santana gives the same answer.

"I do."

"Then yes."

It's a comfortable familiarity. They have another glass of wine. They go to the couch, and put on some bad comedy that Brittany can't get enough of— _I need mindless TV, I can't watch anything heavy after work,_ she's told her—and Santana's head ends up on Brittany shoulder. From there, there's always a kiss, then another, and then another. It should feel boring, tired, but it doesn't. Santana craves routine. Santana craves _this,_ and the excitement, it comes from the kisses. It comes from Brittany weaving her hands though dark locks, then pulling back to look into Santana's eyes. It comes from Brittany pulling her closer, kissing her harder, until she's breathless. It comes from feeling _wanted._

When they go upstairs, Santana feels a new sort of desire. It's more than sexual attraction. It's more, even, than magnetic attraction. It's deeper, it's bigger, it's just… _more,_ and it changes something in their dynamic. Santana isn't hesitant, waiting for Brittany to take off her shirt, waiting for Brittany to prove that she wants her. She doesn't need that, not today. She feels it, in the way Brittany looks at her. She feels it in the way Brittany presses against her. She feels it, just somewhere deep inside of her.

Straddling Brittany, Santana pulls her own shirt over her head. She's unashamed, even as she unclasps her bra and lets it fall down, straps catching in the bends of her elbows. It's the first time she's felt so comfortable, so _confident_ and she tilts her head up, catching Brittany's lips. She holds the kiss for a long time, just taking it in, and she feels it. She feels how Brittany smiles against her mouth. She feels how Brittany just knows how she makes her feel. She feels like everything around her could disappear but this moment, and she's be okay with just Brittany, Brittany, Brittany.

When she finally pulls back, she wastes no time on the buttons of her shirt. She loves when Brittany does this. She loves how she'll slip out of those pencil skirts she wears, and into sweatpants, but she won't change her top. She loves undoing the buttons, slowly, slowly revealing creamy skin inch by inch. She loves kissing what she reveals, and feeling Brittany's heart jump beneath her lips. She loves…her. She loves _Brittany,_ this maddening woman, who's too kind, who's too put together, who's too _everything._ She loves her, and it hits Santana hard and fast, making her freeze in her tracks, lips pressed against Brittany's sternum, _thump, thump, thump_ of a heart—hers or Brittany's, she's not sure—coursing though her.

"You okay?" Brittany whispers, breath ragged, and eyes piercing into Santana.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Yeah. I just…." Santana sucks in air, and then, before she can say it, she chickens out. "You're just really pretty."

"You are too." She smiles, and Santana _feels_ it, seeping into her bones, radiating through her. "The prettiest."

Santana can't get close enough. It's almost like she wants to crawl inside Brittany, to stay surrounded in her forever, but she can't. She just…has to think of something humanly possible instead. Sexual intimacy with Brittany, that's the next best thing. The _very_ best thing Santana has ever experienced, but the next best to the impossible.

She considers her options, as she looks into Brittany's eyes, and her heart races at the possibilities. Her heart races at truly believing that she'd be comfortable doing absolutely _anything._ Her heart races at the fact that she's gone from someone who never trusted a single soul, into someone who's just free-fell into the depths of it, who trusts Brittany Pierce more than she trusts _herself._

Slowly, she rolls Brittany's pants down her legs, letting her kick them to the floor. Slowly, she unbuttons her own, struggling a little with the fabric of the jeans, and looking down, almost sheepish, when Brittany lets out a little laugh. But it doesn't stop her. Not at all. It takes everything for Santana not to moan, when she feels the heat of Brittany's sex radiating so close to her own, and kissing without pause, she pushes Brittany onto her back.

Blonde hair splayed over the pillow, and Brittany's wanton sort of smile spurs Santana. Grazing teeth over her clavicle—stopping at a freckle on the right side—Santana trails her fingers over Brittany's sides, down, down around her naval, then just to the left of the apex of her thighs. Brittany arches, as Santana's pinkie teases her outer lips and her forefinger tickles the crease of her thigh. Her legs drop open, and Santana fits between them, kissing her neck, her chin, her lips again, before slipping her fingers through waiting wetness, and bringing them to her lips.

"God, you look so sexy like that." Brittany pants, and Santana rakes her hand through her hair, trying to muster her most sultry look.

"You _taste_ so sexy." She sucks her fingers, then brings them back between her legs, sheathing them completely in wet heat, in one quick thrust. "You _feel_ so sexy."

"You feel…so…" A moan breaks free from Brittany's throat, and she pulls Santana's face to her own, kissing, kissing, kissing, until Santana is dizzy, and almost forgets just what she was doing.

Brittany comes the first time, legs wrapping around Santana's waist, and hands finding purchase on her breasts. Slowly, Santana retracts her fingers, but she's not done. Briefly, she considers sliding down Brittany's body. She considers the way she feels when Brittany winds her hands in her hair and pulls her closer. She considers looking up, and seeing her look down at her, pupils blown and cheeks flushed, but eyes never leaving her face. She considers it, and she almost does, but then…then she considers something else. She considers how it would feel to rock herself against Brittany. She considers how it would feel to come against Brittany's sex, to feel _Brittany_ come against her own.

She's never done this before—obviously, really—so she's hesitant. Do people actually _do_ this, or is it some sort of myth perpetuated by pornography and the Internet? She's not really sure, but she wants to do it, regardless. Brittany gets it, she thinks, when Santana spreads her legs again, clamped close in tremors of aftershock. She wraps her arms around Santana's neck, pulling Santana down, pulling herself up, and she rolls Santana onto her back, waiting for her nod, before she takes the lead.

"Oh, God." Santana gasps, once her limbs her manipulated so Brittany can position herself, the wetness, the heat, the pulsing of Brittany's clit against her own just entirely overwhelming her. "Oh fucking God."

Brittany kisses her over and over, tongue curling in her mouth, swallowing her moans. It takes a little bit, but Santana gets her own rhythm, canting her hips up to match when Brittany's come down, sparking, sparking everywhere. It's surreal, almost, and Santana has to wrap her arms around Brittany's back, she has to brace herself, as she fights to stave off the orgasm that balls and builds, low in her belly, fights to brace herself, until Brittany is ready too.

"Let go, baby." Brittany's breathes against cheek, and the endearment undoes her.

Her body shudders, and Brittany presses further into her, spurring her own. The feeling of the simultaneous sensations is almost too much for Santana. It's almost enough to make her cry. It's almost enough to completely end her. The waves of pleasure keep coming, and she grabs for Brittany's face, arching up to kiss her, arching up to feel her _more._ This, this is almost like crawling inside of her. Limbs tangled, tongues tangled, the pulsing, pulsing of both their bodies, and more than anything, this terrifying swell in Santana's chest—tachycardia, it must be this time—it's the closest two humans can be, it's…it's everything.

They don't untangle, not for a long time. It should be uncomfortable, the way Santana's leg is bent, the way Brittany's weight presses on her opposite hip. But it's not. It's the most comfortable, the most _settled_ Santana has ever felt. They don't talk, even. They just trade soft kisses, nudges, and Brittany does that thing, that _look_ that makes Santana feel like she could die right now, and she'd be okay, knowing someone has ever looked at her like she's this special. Sometime after midnight, Brittany goes to move, and Santana pulls her back. Again, Brittany kisses her, and she shifts, keeping their limbs entangled, but holding her from behind, hands on her breasts, chin pressed into her shoulder.

"Okay?"

"Mmhm. Good." Santana hums, pressing further back into her.

"Santana."

"Brittany." They say each other's names simultaneously, and Brittany laughs, lips grazing Santana's clavicle. "You go."

"I—"

"I love you." Santana blurts out, realizing after she gives Brittany permission to speak first that if she waits, she'll lose her nerve, that this reverie she's in will give way to anxiety. Even before it does, her heart hammers against her rib cage.

She wonders, wonders, if anyone has ever broken a rib from their heart pounding too hard against them. It's medically impossible, she knows it, but, in this moment, it seems like a great possibility. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she waits, _prays,_ even, that Brittany says it back. _Please, please, please say it,_ she begs some invisible force, until she feels Brittany's thumb on her cheek, and she turns her head slowly, watching the way those blue eyes sparkle, watching a soft smile spread across her face.

"I've been almost saying it for two weeks." Brittany shakes her head. "I almost slipped so many times, but I didn't want to freak you out."

"So you…?" Santana sucks in air, then sucks in some more, figuring that she'll probably need the extra.

"Of course I do." She laughs, kissing the side of Santana's mouth.

"Can you…can you say it?" It's a whisper, and Santana should probably be embarrassed at her desperation for it, but she's not. She's just never needed to hear three words more. She's never needed to _feel_ three words more.

"I love you, Santana. I love you, a _lot._ "

"Is it…" Santana turns into Brittany, breasts pressed against hers, nose brushing. "Is this too soon?"

"I think I loved you since the first time I saw you with my son. It's definitely not too soon."

"But…I was such a bitch to you then."

"You were." Brittany kisses her, slow, soft, before she pulls back again. "It kind of messed me up, the way I couldn't stand you, but then I watched you being so gentle and sweet with him. I've seen people avert their eyes from him, or just…I don't know, be kind of crappy. But you, even though you were crappy to _me,_ you weren't to _him._ That was really something else."

"He's magnetic. Everything about him. He's so, so special, Brittany. I deal with kids all day every day, but I never get attached. And then there was this kid, and his mom who made me absolutely _insane._ "

"I hope now it's in a good way?"

"Now it's in the best way. I never thought I'd be really, totally happy, but…you make me so happy. You, and Liam too."

"Good. That's what we want."

"Brittany?" Santana asks, breaking a silence that follows their heartfelt words. "You're happy, right?"

"Very. Sorry that tonight I was so stressed. I'm not usually like that."

"I know." Santana purses her lips. "Is it just work stuff?"

"The work stuff is fine. I'm behind, but it is what it is." She shrugs a little, and Santana feels the urge to pull her closer, to put a hand on her lower back and scratch it. "Liam has an appointment on Monday. You'd think as a doctor, I wouldn't freak myself out every time."

"Do you want to talk about it?" It feels very adult, very _personal,_ two things Santana is fundamentally _not_ good at. But this is her girlfriend. This is the woman who supports her without waver. This is the woman _she_ wants to support, always.

"Yeah, maybe." Brittany sucks in a breath, and Santana thinks she sounds _small,_ the opposite of the large presence she normally is. "So Liam gets physical therapy."

"His arm?"

"Yeah. He dislocated his shoulder, when…" She trails off, and Santana nods, telling her she doesn't have to say it out loud if she doesn't want to. "With everything else going on, they didn't notice it for five days. I don't know if noticing it earlier would have done anything, or what. But he's got severe radial and axillary nerve damage."

"And the therapy?"

"Three years, and no improvement."

"So they want to surgically intervene."

"Yeah. I mean, that's the next step, I guess. I recommend surgery for so many things _all_ the time. But when it's my kid…I would do _anything_ to keep him from ever going under the knife again. They don't even…he might get sixty-percent function back, he might get _five._ I don't know."

"Who is it?"

"I didn't want a doctor for him at Columbia. I felt like…I don't know, I should separate it."

"Okay."

"You don't sound like you agree." Her brow furrows, and Santana's neck flushes.

"It's not my thing to agree or disagree on."

"That doesn't mean I don't value your opinion, Santana."

"I just know everyone in the orthopedic department. So maybe I'm biased…"

"If it were your kid, who would you take them to see?"

"Brittany, I—"

"Can you answer it for me? Please?" Brittany looks into Santana's eyes, pleading almost. She doesn't think she should intervene, she doesn't feel _right,_ but she does anyway.

"Liz Stevens. I'd go right to the head of the department."

"And she's good?"

"She's one of the best orthopedists in the world. I've only been in surgery with her twice, and once, she reconstructed an entire leg for one of my patients who got hit by a cab. She's sixty-eight, and has the stamina of an eighteen year old. Seventeen hours of surgery, and she was still going."

"Okay." Brittany sucks in a breath. "Okay, that's good to know."

"I don't want to—"

"You're not, I promise. I just want to do what's right by Liam. I have to think about how much of my personal and professional life I can overlap, but I'm really, really glad to hear your opinion."

"You're not mad?"

"Santana." Brittany shakes her head, thumb rubbing Santana's hip bone. "You're an incredible doctor, and I'm never going to be mad because we disagree about things. I wanted to know your opinion, because what you think about things are a factor for me. I really, _really_ love that you were honest. I really love _you._ "

"Can you say that again?"

"You're really cute." Brittany leans in again, catching Santana's lower lip, and kissing her. "I love you, I love you, I love you."


	30. Chapter 30

Santana is in love. She's in love, and it does something to her. It makes her feel lighter, feel _better._ Like loving someone like Brittany, and being loved by her in return makes her, somehow, more worthy, more…everything.

She tells Shelby. Not the _love_ thing. That's her own business, that's something that she keeps close. That's something that she doesn't want to open up for other people to be part of. But she tells her that they're together. She doesn't think she can hide it anymore. She doesn't think she _wants_ to. She isn't the type for public displays of affection, but she doesn't want to hide behind closed blinds either. When she sees Brittany in the halls, she wants to smile. She wants to brush fingers in corridors. She wants to sneak a kiss in the lobby when they're not on the same shift. She wants to be Brittany's girlfriend in every sense of the word.

Shelby is fine with it. Santana breathes a sigh of relief. Brittany had assured her that it wasn't breaking any rules, but still, Santana had worried. But it's fine, it's _good._ Shelby knows that nothing of her relationship will impact her job. She knows that Santana's not like the interns and residents who have sex in on-call rooms and fights in hallways. Shelby _knows,_ and it lifts a weight of anxiety from her chest, knowing that she won't be caught in doing something secretive. Well, at least by Shelby.

"Hey." Mercedes knocks on the door to her office late one afternoon, one arm over her chest, and an eyebrow raised. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, uh-huh." Santana looks down at her phone, turning the screen on and off. Brittany is in an appointment for Liam with Dr. Stevens, deciding whether to continue with the orthopedist at NYU—who wants to schedule a surgery for Liam within the next month, Brittany had found out at their Monday appointment—or move things over to Columbia, and Santana is anxiously awaiting news. "What's up?"

"So, you know I'm not one to gossip—"

"That's an out and out lie." She rolls her eyes. "You and Kurt are the two gossip _queens._ "

"Okay." Mercedes huffs. "Fine, I'm not one to gossip about my _friends._ But I heard a rumor about you, so I'm coming the source."

"A rumor?" Santana swallows hard, unable to keep her eyes from drifting to the darkened screen of her phone. "What kind of rumor?"

"A rumor that you're dating a certain department head, and that you two have been hooking up in her office."

"Excuse me." Blood boils beneath Santana's skin, that hospital gossip mill driving her absolutely mad. "Who the fuck told you that?"

"Wilde was telling—"

"Wilde is all I needed to hear." She balls her hands into fists, knowing that she'd recently spent a month on Brittany's service, and has a bigger mouth than anyone else in the whole damn hospital.

"I figured it wasn't true. I remember how you reacted to Hayward and Motta hooking up in that on call room."

"People need to keep their sex life out of this goddamn hospital. Just because you're seeing someone who works here doesn't suddenly mean that all sense of propriety and _decency_ goes out the window." Santana gripes, looking down at her phone again.

"So, _are_ you seeing someone in this hospital?"

"I—" Taking a breath, Santana contemplates her response. It's one thing, keeping her relationship close to her heart. It's another all together, denying it exists. Brittany deserves better than that. Brittany deserves better than _her,_ she still thinks, but that's a story for a different day. "I…yeah. I am."

"Dr. Pierce?"

"Dr. Pierce." She nods. "Brittany."

"Well I'll be damned! For how long? How did you even hide this? _Why_ did you even hide this?"

"Because I prefer my personal life not subject to an inquisition." Santana snaps. "And especially because we work at the same hospital, and no one here knows how to keep their damn mouth shut. I'm just not ready for that kind of public announcement."

"Alright, I'm sorry I asked." Mercedes makes to stand, and Santana pinches the bridge of her nose, feeling oddly _guilty_ for not telling at least her _friends._

"'Cedes. I'm really happy with her. I have a history of being a fuck up, and I've been so worried that I'd do just that, so I really needed to work through it on my own. I know you like to talk through your stuff. I know Kurt introduces us to everyone he ever talks to, _including_ all his one night stands back when. But that's not me. It's nothing personal. I'm just not _like_ that. I just…need to get my footing before I deal with more emotional stuff."

"I get that." She pauses in her tracks, nodding, to show that she was genuine. "Look, it's between you and me. I hear gossip, I'll squash it with a big hell to the no."

"I'm gonna have to deal with it sooner or later."

"Do it when _you_ want. I got your back, Santana."

"Really?" Santana looks over, genuinely surprised. Mercedes has always been good to her, but still. Knowing she can trust someone with something so special. Knowing she understands that Santana wants to do things on her own terms, that means more than she knows how to say. "Thank you."

"That's what friends are for, right?"

"Yeah. She nods slowly. "Yeah it is."

When Mercedes leaves her office, Santana still feels anxious. She's glad she has someone in her corner, foreign as it is, but still, the idea of people talking about her makes her skin crawl. It makes her want to pull out her hair, or _scream._ Instead, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a pill bottle. She doesn't open it, she just shakes it a little, watching the little peach pills tumble in their casing. She considers reaching for her water bottle, considers swallowing one, but she opens and closes her free hand, she takes deep breaths, and she puts them back in her bag. She doesn't like benzos, not when she doesn't really _need_ to take them, so she's glad she manages to quell her anxiety, she's glad she's been able to get a grip on herself.

 _Wanna come to my office?_ Santana's phone finally buzzes with a text from Brittany. _We're done._

Santana takes a breath, then another. She doesn't want to go up there as a ball of tension. Liam's there, she's sure. Brittany's had a rough day, she's sure. The last thing they need right now is her, coming in, making the energy in the room too much to handle. So she keeps breathing. She takes three sips of the lukewarm coffee on her desk. She stands up, and paces for a few minutes, and then she turns off her light, leaving things as they are, while she heads to the elevator.

When she gets to Brittany's office, she pauses, stopping herself from rapping on the doorframe, when she sees Liam asleep in Brittany's arms at the desk. She knows that Brittany was worried about his nap schedule, worried that a doctor's appointment at the time Liz could meet with them would mess him up completely. But he seems okay, green train held tightly in his left hand, and his head tucked under Brittany's chin. Santana watches them for a few seconds, smiling, before she walks through the open door.

"Hey." Brittany whispers, stroking Liam's hair off his face.

"Hi."

"I'm going to go home. Can you come?"

"Do you want me to?" Santana looks at her feet, unsure if Brittany wants to be alone or not, after this. Unsure if she's just asking because she _always_ comes with them.

"So much. But I know it's early."

"My last consult ended an hour ago. Adams can run the floor."

"Are you sure? I can come back and pick you up later if you need to work longer."

"No." Santana shakes her head. "Definitely not. Give me five minutes to run to my office and pack up?"

"Yeah, totally. I'll go get him in the car and pick you up out front?"

"That sounds good." She nods, turning back toward the door, then turning back around. "Britt? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Brittany lets out a long breath. "Just ready to get out of here."

Santana is quick in her office. She doesn't want to keep Brittany waiting. She wants to get back to her house. She wants to kiss her and lean in close to talk to her. She can tell she's overwhelmed about her afternoon, about Liam, and she wants to be the one who lets her unload, who makes her feel better. She's been doing it a lot lately, and she loves it. It makes her feel like she's got a newfound purpose. It makes her feel like she's more than just an emotional _suck_ on the woman she loves. When she gets to the lobby, she shoots a glare at Wilde, who's walking in—late, probably—before she pushes it all aside. She doesn't want to feel stressed about this, not right this minute. Not when she gets in the car with Brittany and Liam.

Brittany is idling in front of the hospital when she walks through the doors. Before Santana even gets in the car, she can see Liam's hair sticking to the window, still sound asleep in his car seat. She opens the passenger door, and when she sits, she fidgets a bit, deliberating, before she reaches over the console to grab Brittany's hand.

"He stayed asleep when you put him in the car?" Santana asks, because she's not sure she should ask the big question until they're h—back at Brittany's.

"He woke up for a second when he dropped Percy, but he went right back out once I gave him back."

"Oh good, that's good." She purses her lips, watching the streets pass.

The drive is quiet. Going downtown at this time of night, so much earlier than they usually leave work, means they're stuck in rush hour traffic. Santana realizes that she's never seen Brittany truly flustered like this, cursing under her breath and hitting her palm on the steering wheel. She doesn't really know what to do, so she just keeps holding Brittany's hand, just keeps rubbing her thumb on the back on her wrist, just keeps letting her know that she's right here.

Brittany wraps Liam in a blanket when she pulls into the garage and unbuckled him. It's much cooler tonight than it was during the day, and Santana pulls her leather jacket more tightly around her chest. Liam burrows his sleeping face further into Brittany, and Santana just watches, a few steps behind, both awed by their closeness, and cautious that Liam's train doesn't slip from his hand. Something about the whole thing stirs sow thing deep within Santana. She can't place it, not at all, but it's deep, it's real, and she _loves_ this strange new feeling.

"He'll be out for the night." Brittany tells Santana, fidgeting with the locks on the door. "Do you mind ordering dinner, while I put him up in bed?"

"I could make something if you want, Britt. Grilled cheese? Pasta with butter?"

"Actually." She smiles, pushing the door open. "Grilled cheese sounds really good tonight."

While Brittany takes Liam upstairs, Santana rifles through the kitchen. In the cabinet, she finds a can of organic tomato soup, and she starts it on the stove. While it cooks, she butters six slices of bread—one each and one to share, her mom used to say, back when she was a kid—and lays slices of cheese on top of it. She's certainly no gourmet chef, but sometimes grilled cheese and soup is all you need after a hard day. Sometimes grilled cheese and soup could cure absolutely anything.

Once dinner is done, Santana pulls a bottle of wine from the drawer in the fridge. She doesn't pour it yet, just sets two glasses on a tray with the sandwiches and the soup, and slowly walks into the living room. She's _just_ pouring the second glass when Brittany comes down the stairs, grey sweatpants rolled low on her hips, and a blue tank top rising up to expose a strip of skin on her lower belly. Santana swallows hard, eyes roaming up to where hard nipples poke through soft blue fabric, and she rakes her hand through her hair, meeting Brittany's eyes.

"Looks really good." She smiles, sinking down onto the couch. "Thank you."

"Just grilled cheese." Santana shrugs, pressing the wine glass into Brittany's hand. "Made fancy with red wine."

"Made fancy because _you_ made me it. Thank you, really. I needed this."

"Was it bad today?" Her eyes drift slowly over to Brittany, stomach knotting in anticipation of her answer. This was her suggestion, her idea. If it went poorly…

"Not bad. Just hard." Brittany sighs, taking a gulp of her wine. "Liz was great, and I met Jan too, on my way out."

"Jan was my advisor in medical school. She introduced me to Liz, and she used to let me sit in the gallery for her surgeries."

"She said that." She nods. "I liked them. So did Liam."

"Regardless of my personal affections for them though, I don't expect you—"

"I know." Brittany takes Santana's hand and squeezes, before she picks up half of her sandwich. "Liz is an exceptional surgeon though, I can tell."

"But?" Santana chances, still wary about pushing her to talk.

"She told me it's up to me if I do it right now. That I could wait six months or so if I want, see a new physical therapist that she works closely with, and maybe there'll be some kind of improvement. But I don't know, I just never know what's best for him. He had so many surgeries after the fire, and the idea of him under the knife again…" A single tear forms at the corner of Brittany's eye, and Santana presses her thumb over it, stopping it from falling. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Santana leans in, kissing grilled cheese crumbs from Brittany's lips. "You don't need to be."

"I'm usually good at holding it together."

"I'm usually _not._ " Santana slides closer, stroking the outside of Brittany's thigh with her fingertips. "Sometimes you should get a turn too."

"He was just so unhappy today. He _hates_ the MRI. I swear, I think he remembers it from when he was a baby. I know that sounds crazy, but…"

"You know as well as I do about the reality of sense memory. Part of him probably does."

"He was hysterical in there, and I couldn't be with him. That's what I hate the most about surgery. He's all alone, and I can't help him. I don't want to waste time doing something that's probably not the best course of action for him, just because I'm afraid. I'm a surgeon. I know he should have the damn surgery."

"I wish I could do the surgery." Santana's voice is nearly a whisper.

"You wouldn't, even if you could. I know you hold ethics with the most regard…"

"If it made you feel better, I would. I'd do it in a second. If I thought I could get on Liz's case _now,_ without Shelby yanking me right off, I would."

"I wouldn't want you to. Operating on someone you care about…there's a reason you aren't supposed to."

"Brittany." Santana takes three sips of her wine, glad she opted out of the other pills, or she'd be drunk already. "I'll be here though, for everything, if you decide to do it. Whether it's now, or in six months. I'll take the week off of work, I'll sleep on the floor of his room in a sleeping bag if you want me to. I'll drive you to Boston, if you feel more comfortable doing it at Brigham. I'll drive you to _California,_ if you want."

"Santana." Brittany looks at her, those eyes, melting, almost. "Santana, Santana."

"I mean it."

"I know you do. You're really something else."

"I love you, and I love Liam. That's all."

"We love you too. I don't know what I'm going to do, but knowing you'll be here makes it easier. Anyway…" Brittany waves the conversation off, signaling that she doesn't want to talk about it anymore. That she wants to think about it on her own, Santana assumes. "How was _your_ day?"

"It was…" Santana purses her lips, thinking for a second, before she speaks. "Sammy is up eight pounds now."

"Two more and you can do the first surgery, right?"

"Yeah, I'm hoping next week. The mass has remained stable, and so has her white blood cell count, so I need it to stay that way."

"Man." Brittany shakes her head, finished the second half of her sandwich, and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I just still can't get over the whole thing."

"I know. I get so damn anxious just thinking about the whole thing. But she's making progress, that's all I've gotta keep telling myself."

They're quiet for several minutes, Santana offering up half of the second sandwich to Brittany, who smiles, and taps them together, a sort of _cheers._ Santana knows she's deep in thought, but the crease in her brow isn't as deep as it was. The wine is definitely helping, she thinks, and she wonders, maybe, maybe, if _she_ is helping too. Hoping so, she cuddles closer, sinking into Brittany as she drapes an arm over her shoulder.

"So I heard a rumor today." Brittany breaks the silence, and Santana's back stiffens. "Judging by that reaction, I guess you did too?"

"Mercedes came to my office. I mean, if you're talking about Wilde."

"I am. I'm glad you didn't hear it straight from the horse's mouth."

"You _did?_ " Santana's jaw drops, and she turns her body abruptly, making Brittany's bracelet catch in her hair. She lets out a little yelp, but Brittany is quick to untangle it.

"Are you okay?" She brushes her hand through Santana's hair, concentrating on fingers rubbing the scalp.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry." With a shake of her head, Santana turns her attention back to why she jerked so rapidly in the first place. "What happened?"

"I walked up behind her at the nurses' station, telling Brody and Cassandra. Sorry, hot blonde and Ken doll—" Brittany explains for Santana, who feels her heart race a little, knowing how Brittany knows her idiosyncrasies. "about how she walked in on us _going at it like lesbian rabbits_ in the supply closet."

"Oh my _God._ Why? Why would she do that? We never— I would never— Ugh!"

"Santana. Hey. It's taken care of."

"What?" Her eyes widen, but Brittany takes her hand, pulling it to her lips, so she can kiss the back of it.

"Wilde and I had a little meeting in my office this morning. She's got a _whole_ lot of scut, from one of the only doctors in this hospital who almost _never_ assigns it, and she'll be paying you a visit tomorrow with an apology."

"How did you…?"

"I don't just have a department head position for my exceptional surgical skills."

"Did you tell her about us?"

"I'm pretty sure it's not her business. Your department head knows, _my_ boss knows. Whoever else finds out, that's for us to choose."

"Why are you so…God, you're such an adult."

"Hate to break it to you, Santana," Brittany teases, poking Santana in the ribs, "but in spite of the grilled cheese sandwiches and superhero scrub caps, so are you."

"You're really cute." She brushes Brittany's nose with her own, and kisses her, slow, soft. "Liam's still going to your mom's next week?"

"Ugh, yeah." Her eyebrows knit, and Santana can't help but kiss her right there. "I kind of hate my out of town conferences even more now."

"Yeah me too." A thought crosses Santana's mind, but she doesn't say it, not yet. It's just too soon. It's just too much. "Well, you can totally say no, or whatever. I won't be offended or anything. It's kind of unimportant, with everything else you've got going on. But…if you're up to it the night you come back, do you, uh, maybe wanna meet my friends."

"Now it's my turn to say _you're_ cute." She steals another kiss, and Santana's neck flares with heat, feeling the way she's looking at her again. That way that really is too much. "It _is_ important, because it's important to you. So yeah, I'd really love that."


	31. Chapter 31

Brittany goes away. Santana doesn't realize how much she hates it, until the second night she leaves work, and feels in ache in her stomach that she has to sleep in her own bed _again._ She never thought that she'd be like this, but she loves sleeping beside someone else. She loves waking up with her head on Brittany's shoulder. She loves Brittany sleepily tangling their fingers together beneath the sheets. She loves their quick morning showers together, and dressing quickly so she can pour cereal while Brittany rouses her baby bear from bed. She loves being part of a family. She loves being _home._

So Santana becomes grumpy. She snaps at her residents. She ends up putting the interns on scut. She sulks around the nurses station, or spends too much time with Sammy Franklin, sometimes even playing Go-Fish for an hour in the afternoon, even though she has actual work to do. She never thought she'd be like this, but she is. It's only for six days, but still. Even with text messages, even with the FaceTime call from Brittany's mom that Liam insisted, from Boston, on making, even falling asleep with her phone on her pillow, and the sound of Brittany's voice in her ear, it still sucks.

Six days is a long time. Even though when she streams Brittany's keynote address on the Internet, she's _so_ unbelievably proud of her, Santana wishes she would just come home already. She wishes there'd be a knock on the door, and there she'd be, holding a takeout container, and some cheesy sweatshirt from Des Moines. The kind of sweatshirt that Santana would have made fun of _anyone_ for wearing a few months ago, but now, that she'd probably kill to wrap herself up in, especially if her head was on Brittany's chest.

Santana finds herself wishing for Liam too. She doesn't want to be weird and FaceTime him every day while he's at Brittany's parents' house. He's with his grandparents, and they love having him visit. He's with his grandparents, and it's not like Santana _is_ anyone to him. She's not his mom, or his aunt, or his _friend._ She's just his Mama's girlfriend. She's just _her,_ and right now, she doesn't need to come off as even _more_ needy than she's been feeling.

Finally, it's the day. Santana wakes up, and she feels some sort of pep in her step, one she hasn't felt since she dropped Brittany off at the airport. Before she goes to work, she spends thirty-two minutes doing her hair. She plucks her eyebrows perfectly, and she shaves every stitch of hair below her waist, spending time exfoliating and moisturizing her skin down there too. She wears the new sexy underwear she'd bought while wandering home slowly on night number three. She changes her sheets and makes her bed. She makes sure everything is in order, before she locks the door behind her. Brittany is coming home today. Brittany will _probably_ sleep over her apartment, since she's kid-less and they're going to the bar. Brittany is meeting her friends, and since she can't control that at all, she needs everything _else_ to be perfect.

Clearly, Santana realizes, halfway through the morning, that when she got ready for work, she must have forgotten that she was a _surgeon._ By the time she finishes her morning appendectomy and hernia repairs, she feels like she's drenched in sweat. Her sexy new underwear feel more _sweaty_ than sexy, and her hair is disheveled from being shoved up under her scrub cap. To put in simply, she feels _disgusting_ and looking at the time on her cellphone, she tries to imagine a world where she could get home from work before Brittany gets in from Des Moines.

It doesn't happen. Santana is just about to take a lunch break and race downtown, when Rose comes into her office, telling her that a fourteen year old leukemia patient is vomiting blood. She spends the afternoon in surgery, exhausted when she comes out, and aching for a nap. Instead, she takes a shower in the locker room. Her hair isn't what she'd wanted, her _underwear_ isn't what she'd wanted, but she's clean at least. Her pits don't stink, and she doesn't smell like puke. She's clean, and Brittany's flight landed an hour and a half ago.

"Hey, you." Brittany looks up from the nurse's station. She's in tight jeans and a leather jacket, and Santana swallows hard. She hadn't expected her for another hour, and yet, here she is.

"Hi." She croaks, heat creeping up her neck. "You made it in."

"I did. I figured I'd show up early and surprise you. So, surprise!"

"I missed you." Santana murmurs, stepping closer to Brittany, and wringing her hands in front of her. They're in a crowded hallway, but still, she feels a magnetic pull toward Brittany. Still, she needs to be as close to her as she can.

"I missed you too. A _lot._ "

Santana just nods. She's not sure what exactly to say next. Instead, she just turns and walks toward her office, leather clad Brittany following right behind her. It may be the sexist thing she's ever seen, Brittany in dark, tight jeans. Brittany in an off the shoulder white t-shirt. Brittany in that gorgeous piece leather. When the door is closed, Santana tells her as much. Not with words, but with a long, deep kiss. Arms wrap around her waist, and Santana sighs, soft leather of Brittany's jacket rubbing against the bare skin, where her shirt rises up. Brittany is home, and for the first time in six days, Santana feels like _she_ is too.

"I really, _really_ missed you." Santana repeats, no shame in her words.

"Me too. You're off tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah…but you've gotta go to Boston."

"Come with me." Brittany whispers, kissing Santana's lips twice, then pulling back to look in her eyes. "If you want, I mean."

"You _want_ me to?"

Though she's not sure why, Santana is stunned by it. New York is _her_ world, but Boston is Brittany's. Boston is where her family is. Boston is where her friends are. Boston is where she was raised, where her son was born, where…where her sister lies. It feels serious, to Santana, Brittany inviting her there. It feels more serious than _girlfriend_ and _stay the night_ and _I love you._ It feels serious, and yet for the first time in Santana's life, she's unafraid.

"Why wouldn't I? I've been gone for six days, I _kinda_ miss my girlfriend. And I figure, I'm meeting your friends tonight, maybe I could introduce you to mine tomorrow. I wasn't going to stay the night, but if you're coming and you want to, I know my mom wouldn't say no. We just might end up with Liam in bed with us."

"Oh. I mean. I could sleep on the couch, or the floor, or…whatever." Santana stammers, chewing on her lip.

"Thats up to you, Santana. But I have no problem with it."

"It's not weird?"

"Why would it be weird?" Brittany shrugs. "I plan on having you in my life, and in my son's life for a long time. I absolutely understand if _you're_ not ready for that kind of step yet, but you're important to me, and I trust you with Liam implicitly."

"I FaceTimed him while you were gone."

"He told me." She smiles, that soft smile, that _adoring_ smile. The one that makes Santana weak in the knees. "I'm not sure which of us loves you more."

"Brittany."

"I mean that. He's the sweetest, warmest boy, but he's never attached to someone the way he's attached to you. He loves you, baby, and it makes _me_ love you even more."

"You know I love him too."

"I do." Brittany nods. "I'm telling you, that alone has made my decision to go forward with the surgery so much easier."

"You didn't tell me."

"I know. I finally forced myself to process it on the plane home, so it's about two hours old." Brittany shakes her head and waves her hand. "We'll talk about it later, or tomorrow in the car."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. It's rare I get a night out in a bar that isn't in a hotel in Iowa or something. Plus, I get to meet your friends. I'm excited."

"I'm not sure how excited you should be about Kurt and Mercedes." Santana rolls her eyes. "If they're too much, go play darts with Kurt's boyfriend. That's what I do."

"They'll be fine."

"They're high maintenance."

"I'm a _plastic surgeon._ " Brittany laughs, and Santana finds herself smiling. "I'm pretty sure I can handle high maintenance."

While Santana makes her final rounds for the day, Brittany goes to her office. With her in the same building, Santana feels so much more at ease. It's _gross_ how goopy she gets over this woman, but it's the best kind of gross. She's going to Boston. She's going to meet Brittany's friends. Brittany wants her more and more involved in the life of her son. She has a _family,_ it feels like. She has someone more than her mother who actually believes that she's good inside. Someone more than her mother who loves her in this special way. She has someone more, and it feels really, _really_ good.

It's dark when she meets Brittany in the lobby. Kurt and Mercedes probably left for the bar an hour ago, but Santana rarely leaves work on time. She's starting to feel a little nervous about the whole thing, but when Brittany pulls her close and slips a hand into the back pocket of her jeans, Santana's every muscle relaxes. It's just Brittany. It's just Brittany, and it's just her sometimes overly intrusive friends.

The bar is crowded when they walk in, and Santana scans the room. Kurt and Mercedes have a table in the back, and she takes a breath, before she leads Brittany first to the bar.

"Hey Santana." There's a purr from the bar stool beside them, and Santana stiffens. It's the doctor-fucker, and her whole body turns cold. "Long time, no see."

"Been busy." She shrugs, then cocks her head toward Brittany. "Wine, babe?"

"How about gin and tonic tonight?" Brittany smiles, and takes Santana's hand, helping to put her at ease.

"Wow. That sounds good." Santana releases a breath, slow and steady, trying to calm herself in a situation she can't handle.

"Let me get it." Brittany raises a finger to the bartender, and Santana doesn't even argue. She feels eyes on her, and it makes her squirm. She feels eyes on her, and she wants to crawl under the bar and disappear.

"Thank you." Her voice cracks, but Brittany presses her lips to the side of her face, letting them linger there a few seconds. "I'm just gonna, uh…"

"How about you let me order first, and we go together?" Brittany suggests, squeezing her hand. The girl beside them snickers and sputters, and even _Santana_ can feel Brittany's glare. "Shouldn't swallow more than you can handle."

Santana squirms the entire time she stands there. She can feel that same sickening feeling that she felt in the aftermath of hooking up with her creeping back into her veins. It's been _months,_ but still. Something about this woman's presence unsettles her. Even with Brittany beside her, maybe even _more_ with Brittany beside her.

She swallows half her gin and tonic in one gulp. Her hands tremble a little, but that helps to steady them. Brittany doesn't let go of her, as they make their way to the bathroom, and she fidgets on the line, waiting, waiting, waiting until she can hide behind the closed door. When it's her turn, Brittany follows her in. She considers fighting her, but she doesn't. She just pulls herself up on the sink and keeps taking breaths.

"We've all got a past, Santana." Brittany stays out of her space, but doesn't take her eyes off of her.

"You don't understand." She huffs, swallowing over and over again, in order to keep herself from crying. "You don't understand."

"So make me." Her eyebrow arches, as she takes a sip of her drink. "I want to, so make me."

"You have a past, and things you've _done._ I have a past and who I _was._ I don't even feel like the same _person_ anymore. Seeing…whatever, that girl…it just makes me feel shitty."

"Santana." Brittany pinches the bridge of her nose, and takes another swig of her drink. "You don't think _I_ feel like a different person than I was a year ago? Two years ago? After the end of my engagement, I felt like everything I was during the whole time I was with her was a lie. My focus was Liam after that. It was starting a new life for the two of us, and then there was you. I felt like I was sleeping, and you woke me up. Maybe you're not who you were, but neither am I."

"There's not a girl you fucked sitting two hundred feet from us."

"So what? Are you going to leave me for her?"

"What? No! Why would you even say that?"

"I don't do jealousy, Santana." Brittany steps forward, standing between Santana's legs. "Jealousy means that I don't trust you. Did it bug me, the way she was leering at you and snickering? Of course it did. But I'm too damn old to have a fight with some chick in a bar, especially when it's time I could spend meeting my girlfriend's friends."

"I'm seriously emotionally stunted."

"Just different pasts. We'll figure it out. If you want to leave, invite your friends to my house. If you want to stay, just remember that I love you, and there's very little you could say or do that could change that."

"You're something else, Brittany Pierce."

"And so are you."

Hopping down from the counter, Santana splashes cold water on her face, and she decides to stay. She doesn't want to go near the bar and relive the shame she felt over and over again, but she'll stay. She'll be with her friends. She'll be with her girlfriend. She'll be the _normal_ human that she's spend the last months attempting to become. She'll be _okay,_ because she has Brittany. She'll be okay, because she's _not_ that girl anymore.

"Santana Lopez!" Kurt shrieks, as they approach the table. "Who is _this_ goddess, and where have you been keeping her all my life?"

"Really, Hummel?" Santana rolls her eyes, then looks at Brittany, who chuckles. "You know who she is. Didn't you do a surgery wth her like three weeks ago?"

" _Ça fait rien."_ He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I know Dr. Pierce, but this…"

"Is the same person." Mercedes elbows him in the ribs. "Don't be so over the top. You know Santana hates that."

"Satan hates everything. Let me have my fun. Sit, Brittany, sit. Tell me _everything_ about yourself."

"Everything is a bit much." She pulls out a chair for Santana, before she sits down, and _maybe_ Santana swoons a little. "I might need another drink for that."

"David!" Kurt's shrill voice makes Santana cringe. She loves him, but God, after two glasses of wine, he ceases to sound _human._

"Hey." Dave turns from his dart game to grin and Santana. "I swear, I was coming right over to say hi."

"Play your game." She waves him off. "Don't let him boss you around."

"I was _trying_ to get your lady another drink." He gives Santana an exaggerated eye roll.

"You know where the bar is."

"It's okay, Santana." Putting down his darts, Dave comes over with a grin and holds out his hand to Brittany. "Dave Karofsky. It's nice to meet you, Brittany. What are you drinking?"

"You don't have to get me a drink."

"I know, but I want to. Is that a gin and tonic?"

"It is. Here, let me—"

"Please, don't insult me." Dave laughs, putting a big hand on her shoulder. "Same, Santana?"

"Please."

Something about Dave Karofsky always puts Santana at ease. She doesn't even bother to look in the direction of the bar as he goes, she just holds Brittany's hand in her lap, and watches the way she lights up as she talks to Kurt and Mercedes. There's just something about this woman, and it hits her straight in the chest, the way she manages to captivate in conversation. Santana is usually sullen and reserved. The friends she had, she made because the accepted her for her grumpiness, but Brittany, she lights up a room. Brittany, she makes Santana so proud to be with her.

They talk for awhile, before Brittany drags her to play pool with Dave and Mercedes. Santana never plays, but with Brittany, she wants to. She loves the way Brittany presses into her, helping her position the stick, even though they both know Santana is more than capable. She loves the way Brittany murmurs into her ear, gin on her breath. She loves the way Brittany picks her up and spins around when she pockets the 8-ball. She loves the way she's having actual _fun_ in the bar, and she loves the way Brittany just brings her right out of her shell.

Before they leave, Kurt pulls Santana aside. She's nervous, at first, that he's going to say something snarky. She's nervous, until he hugs her, and tells her that he's _obsessed_ with Brittany. He tells her he's happy for her. He tells her it's about time she found someone who she deserves. It makes Santana happier than she knows how to say, and so she says nothing at all. She just thanks him, and she leaves, just a little drunk, and with Brittany's arm around her waist.

They take a cab to Santana's apartment. It's so rare they stay there, but Santana loves the way Brittany's blonde hair falls against her dark sheets. She loves the way Brittany, _definitely_ more drunk than she is, lets Santana undress her. She loves the way Brittany arches up against her hand, as Santana circles her clit. She loves the way she comes on her fingers and moans her name. She loves her lazy post orgasmic kisses, and the way she rolls Santana over. She loves the way she always wants to make her come with her mouth. She loves the way she pulls a blanket over them both afterward, and throws one leg protectively over Santana. She loves the way she makes Santana feel so damn _loved_ that she could just cry. She loves that she's here, she loves that she's _home._

"Feels so good." Santana whispers, brushing Brittany's nose with her own.

"Hmm?"

"You back."

"Yeah." Brittany kisses her again, again, again, until she's even more breathless than she was to begin with. "Yeah it does."


	32. Chapter 32

They're going to Boston. That's the first thing Santana remembers when she wakes up. They're going to Boston, and Brittany is bringing her into her world. They're going to Boston, and Santana's whole belly is full of butterflies.

When she rolls over in bed, she realizes that Brittany isn't there. Anxiety shoots through her at the thought that she left, that maybe she changed her mind. That she could have left already for Boston, without her. The thought of it makes her feel a little sick, but then, then she smells coffee, and no matter _how_ much she loves that smell, she's certain she's never been so glad to smell it in all her life.

Wrapping a sheet around herself, Santana goes into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she sees her tousled hair, and she brushes her fingers over the purple marks on her neck. It makes her smile a little, the reminder of the way Brittany loves her. It makes her smile, even as she opens the medicine cabinet and swallows her pills.

Once her face is washed and her teeth are brushed, Santana pulls on sweatpants and a t-shirt and goes into the kitchen. Brittany sits at the table in jeans and one of Santana's t-shirts, sipping coffee and reading an old issue of the American Journal of Medicine. Santana's heart flutters at the sight of her, so comfortable in her home, and she pauses for several seconds, just to stare at her.

"How long have you been _up?_ " Santana looks at the clock, seeing that it's only just after eight.

"My mom called at 6:15, Li was up and wanted to know when I was coming. I took a shower, hope you don't mind I used your blowdryer."

"Oh. Yeah, no, uh…not at all. You could have woken me up if you wanted to go earlier."

"I didn't." Brittany smiles, closing her magazine and standing up to kiss Santana. "Number one, you looked really cute sleeping, and number two, I didn't want to leave until after rush hour."

"I want to take a really fast shower before we go, but other than that—"

"Sit." She pulls out the chair beside her own. "Enjoy your coffee. While you're in the shower, I'm going to run down and get bagels, but don't rush."

"But Liam—"

"Is fine. I miss him like crazy, but if we leave any time before ten, it's going to be a nightmare. Also—" Brittany pour a cup of coffee and sets it down on the table, then kisses Santana again. "Hi, good morning. You taste like toothpaste."

"Better toothpaste than last night's gin."

"I love you." Brittany smiles, and Santana gets butterflies, still, every time.

"I love you too, Britt."

Santana takes a shower. She tries to hurry, so she doesn't keep Brittany waiting. She knows that she said she wasn't in a rush, but still. It's been nearly a week since Brittany had seen her son, it's been nearly a week since Liam has seen his _mama,_ and she just doesn't want to hold up their reunion at all. When she gets out, she pulls her hair back in a ponytail and pulls on jeans and a sweater. She's trying to look casual, but she spends just a _little_ more time putting on her makeup, just a little more time remembering to put on jewelry. It's just an overnight visit, but she throws three outfits into her bag. She tucks her medication into her makeup bag. She checks herself over and over again, making sure she has everything she needs. So she's a little neurotic, that's her thing, and at least, at the _very_ least, Brittany has come to expect that of them.

They walk together to Brittany's garage. On her trip to the bagel store, Brittany had brought Santana back the world's largest coffee. With one hand tucked into Brittany's jacket pocket, Santana uses the other to lift the cup to her lips. Autumn in New York is a cheesy concept, it always makes Santana think of that movie with Catherine Zeta Jones and Julia Roberts, where they made fun of the original movie. It's cheesy, but maybe, walking down the street with her hand in Brittany's pocket, leaves changing colors around them, she kind of sort of likes it a lot.

Brittany puts their bags in the trunk. Santana shivers a little when she gets in the car, thinking that with all her frantic packing, she probably should have brought a heavier jacket. Brittany notices. She always does, and that's something that will probably never cease to make Santana swoon. She notices, and she reaches across the console, turning the heated seats on, before squeezing Santana's thigh. She doesn't know how she's like this, she doesn't know _why_ she's like this, but she's stopped asking. She's stopped asking, and she's just basking in the fact that someone loves her like this, no matter how undeserving she is.

"Did you, uh, wanna talk?" Santana asks after a while of silence, her hand nestled between Brittany's legs, and her eyes never leaving her. She's still certain she's terrible at these mature sort of conversations, but it's _Brittany_ and she knows her decision about Liam must be eating her alive.

"We can if you want. I don't want to drag you into this, if you don't want to be."

"I meant what I said last week." She swallows. "You're not dragging me in. I don't want to step on your toes or anything, but being with you means that your kid is important. I want you to tell me stuff…you know, if you want me to know."

"I do want you to know." Brittany takes Santana's hand from between her legs and kisses her wrist. "I just don't want you to force you into something you don't want to be part of. When we were taking about the past last night, I was thinking how it's part of mine. Not just one person either. You're the _only_ person I've wanted to be serious with after I got custody of Liam and my engagement went to shit, because you're the only person who's recognized his presence as a given."

"Well I always want it to be that way." For a moment, she purses her lips in thought, and she sees how Brittany's face softens. "I…uh….never mind."

"What?" She cocks her head to the side, one eye on the road, and the other on Santana.

"I mean, it doesn't have to be a _thing_ or anything, and I really, really mean what I just said about toes, or whatever, and I know your mom takes Liam, and that's when your parents get to see him and stuff. But like, if you ever needed me, or wanted me to keep him when you go away, or get him from daycare if you have to work late, I…I don't mind or anything." Santana feels her palms start to sweat, and she wipes the hand not in Brittany's grasp on her jeans. "You know, if you want."

"You'd really do that?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I? I'm usually just sitting around when we don't work the same schedule. Liam could sit around with me, or we could go out and do stuff, whatever."

"Wow, I really love you." Santana barely hears it, the way Brittany lets the words out in a breath, but she can see on her face that she's happy about it. "You don't even know."

"I just want to make things…I dunno, easier, or something. And I mean it when I say I enjoy having him around."

"I know you mean it, and that's what means so much. You're so much more special than you know."

"I'm not really anything but just _me."_

" _You_ are what's so special." Brittany takes a moment, and Santana continues to look at her, bits of Rhode Island whizzing past beyond the window. "I'm really so grateful that you told me about Liz, Santana. Her giving me options really made me evaluate my own feelings. You know, I'm not the kind of parent who's going to sit here like _what a tragedy, my kid won't be able to play baseball._ "

"I know that."

"But you know what, Liam _likes_ baseball! He loves putting on his Sox jersey and watching the games with me. The day my dad took us all to Fenway for opening day was the best day of his life. What if he _wants_ to play baseball? Or paint? Or climb rocks? Or…I don't know, any other thing that he needs his dominant hand for. What if I spend a year with him and a new physical therapist, and there's still no improvement? Then he's another year behind. I just don't think I could live with myself if I didn't do everything I could to give him every opportunity."

"I get that. I mean, we're surgeons, fix things with surgery, right?" Santana sucks in a breath, thinking of all the times she's considered fixing her own _situation_ with surgery, considers all the times she's chickened out.

"You know, I don't know if it's selfish of me, but I would never put him under the knife again for his burns." Brittany murmurs, and she squeezes Santana's hand, like she just _knows._ "If he chooses to, when he's older, I would never not support him, but he's my beautiful boy. I love everything about his face."

"You're a really good mom." A lump forms in Santana's throat, and she turns away, looking out her window, just…considering. "He's so lucky to have you."

"I'm all he's got. I have to do my very best work. There's no second chance."

"No. You're right. There's not."

The rest of the way, Santana is quiet. She drinks her coffee, she peeks over at Brittany occasionally, but she's quiet. Brittany is the only person she's ever met with whom she can do this. With whom she doesn't feel the need to fill empty air with words. She can think, she can consider, and she doesn't have to worry that she'll be judged for it.

When they get to Boston, Santana is entranced. She's been here a few times in her life—for a conference her father ran once, and dragged her too while she was in college, on a school trip to Plymouth and Boston Harbor, with her mother when she was _really_ young, to see one of her old college friends—but for all intents and purposes, it's an uncharted city. It's uncharted, and yet, it's Brittany's. It the place where this woman she loves so deeply was born and raised. Like her story is etched in the cobblestone, written on red brick walls. It's Brittany's city, and for that reason, Santana will bury any negative memories of the place.

"We're here." Brittany pulls up in front of a brick front house with a perfectly manicured lawn. Almost on cue, Santana sees a little face peek out the window, and before she can even open the door, Liam, followed by Pierce Pierce, is bounding down the steps.

"Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama!" Liam cheers, bolting toward the brass gate. "Mama! You comed! You bringded Doccer Santana!"

"I did!" She laughs, opening the gate, and scooping the giggling boy up. Santana watches as she hugs him close, as she kisses him, as she just closes her eyes and breathes him in, content her baby is back in her arms. "I missed you so, _so_ much, Li!"

"I misseded you the mostest! Gramma say we gonna sleep here tonight _again?_ "

"Well, I was _hoping_ we could." Brittany presses her lips to Liam's ear and stage whispers. "You know, Santana's never had a sleepover here before."

"Doccer Santana! Doccer Santana!" Liam wriggles out of Brittany's arms, and he shimmies over to her, standing with his arms crossed before her. "You gon' sleep here? Mama say!"

"Is that okay with you, sir?" Santana smiles as he erupts in to giggles at _sir._

"Where you gon' sleep? You don't got a bed here!"

"I…uh…well—"

"I think we'll be able to work it out, Li." Brittany gives Santana a reassuring nod. "Don't you worry."

"I not worried! I just checkin'! You gon' come see my new trains?"

"Sounds good to me." Santana shrugs, and though it happens frequently, she's still surprised when Liam wraps his arms around her legs, hugging her close.

Whitney and Pierce make Santana feel at home. The house is warm and cozy, so unlike where she grew up. There are pictures of Brittany everywhere. Pictures of her sister. Pictures of her brother-in-law. Pictures of Liam, from the time he was a baby in the hospital. Pictures of Pierce and Whitney on their wedding day, on family vacations. It's beautiful, but it makes Santana a little sad too. It makes her sad, because it's so foreign to her how happy these people can still be after the great loss they've suffered.

Liam wants to show Santana everything. He drags her up and down the stairs. He drags her through every room. He pulls out every toy. He's just so _excited,_ and his excitement is infectious. It makes Santana excited, it makes Santana just feel so entirely _happy._ She can't get enough of this child. It should scare her, _terrify_ her, how attached she's become to Brittany's son, but it doesn't, it doesn't at all.

"We're going to have dinner at The Mission." Brittany sidles up to Santana, after Liam falls asleep in her lap, head on her chest, and legs curled beneath him. "If that's okay with you."

"Whatever you want." She whispers, afraid to wake him up, afraid that she'll upset the calmest situation she's ever felt. "I'm just glad to be here."

"I'm glad you're here too." A slow smile spreads across Brittany's face, and she leans over Liam's sleeping form to kiss Santana's lips. "I guess he's really glad you are too."

"Do you…?"

"No." Brittany shakes her head, but ruffles Liam's dark hair. "You keep him. He's good there, you tired him out."

"We _did_ play a lot of trains."

"Your Sir Topham Hatt voice really is getting better. It must have tired you out."

"I…" Santana blushes profusely, having not realized that Brittany actually _heard_ her. "I'm good."

"Will you still be good if I come cuddle with my two favorite people?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'd be _really_ good."

Santana falls asleep. She doesn't even mean to, but when Brittany sits down beside her, she ends up resting her head on her shoulder, and before she knows it, she's out cold. She's comfortable with Brittany, she's comfortable _here,_ in the Pierces' home, she's comfortable with this sweet little boy in her arms. So she sleeps, she doesn't worry about anything around her, she doesn't worry about drooling on Brittany's sweater, or snoring in her ear. She doesn't worry at all, and it's perfect.

"Shh, mom, stop." Santana wakes up to Brittany's whisper, but she doesn't open her eyes.

"I'm just taking pictures. It's cute, and exactly what I'd hoped for you with—"

"Mom."

"I'm just saying, Brittany. You could be close to having—"

"Mom, please. This isn't the kind of conversation I want to have right now."

"We both know it's exactly what you—"

"It's all new, Mom." Brittany breathes through her teeth, but Santana feels her heart start to race. "Let me just take things as they come."

"You're a planner, Brittany Susan, I know you're not just thinking about the now of it."

"I love her, I'm so happy to be with her. _That's_ what I'm thinking about right now. Whatever else, I'll take as it comes."

"Alright, honey. If you say so."

Santana doesn't open her eyes right away. She doesn't want Brittany to know that she heard…whatever it is that Whitney was saying. She's not entirely sure she understood the full meaning, but it feels heavy. It feels like she was contemplating a future for Brittany and Liam, a future that _Santana_ is a part of. This whole day, it's made her feel like she's less than someone transient in their lives. Brittany trusting her with Liam. Brittany bringing her back home. Brittany's parents welcoming her into _their_ home with open arms. It's there again, that feeling. The feeling like she's really part of a family, and until Liam wakes up wiggling in her arms, she just sits silently, processing it.

They go to dinner. Santana loves seeing the neighborhood Brittany used to work in. She's only been to Brigham and Women's once, and only for a few hours to get a donor heart, back when she was an intern, but she thinks of Brittany walking the floors there. Commanding another hospital with her poise and grace, heels clicking on tile as she walked her rounds. Doing surgery after surgery, and still making it through the day with barely a hair out of place. Beneath the table in the restaurant, she feels Brittany squeeze her hand, and she pictures her at the bar there, crossing her legs on the stool, laughing with her friends, _young,_ so young, and already so successful.

"You're quiet tonight." Brittany leans over and whispers in her ear, lips brushing the shell of it. "Are you okay?"

"No, yeah. I'm good. Really good. Just…taking it all in and stuff."

"How's your burger?"

"Really good. Want a bite?"

"I won't say no to one." Brittany shrugs, and Santana brings it to her mouth so she can bite it. "Mmm 's good."

"You too are just _too_ cute." Whitney comes back from the bathroom, Liam in tow. Brittany rolls her eyes a little, and heat creeps up the back of Santana's neck.

"They not cute Gramma! They big people!"

"Yeah, Grandma, we're big people." Brittany scoots her chair back to help Liam into his chair, and he giggles against her neck. "Where's Dad?"

"Carmen and April are at the bar. I told him to come back here and let _you_ go see your friends, but he doesn't listen to me!"

"It's fine, Mom. We'll finish eating, and then I'll introduce Santana. That is, if you want to, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah totally." She swallows hard, nervous. "I definitely want to meet your friends."

When Pierce comes back to the table, Santana is just about done with her burger, and Brittany is helping her with the fries. They don't order another drink from the waitress, but instead, leave Liam with a giant dish of ice cream, as Brittany takes Santana's hand and leads her up to the bar. Santana's nervous, to say the least, her heart pounding in her ears, and her breathing coming out in quick, shallow breathes, but she'll do this. She'll be a normal person. She'll meet her girlfriend's old friends, and she'll try _not_ to act like a complete weirdo.

She meets April Rhodes and Carmen Tibideux. Truth be told, she's just a _little_ star struck by Dr. Tibideux—she really has trouble calling such a surgical legend by her first name. She's read all of her academic papers, and she's in awe that the woman is just sitting here drinking a glass of wine, she's in awe that this woman is Brittany's _friend._ But she manages to keep it together as she sips the glass of wine that Brittany presses into her hands. Lucky for her, April is pretty drunk, and she talks a _lot._ She's not sure if she should be uncomfortable with the fact that she pinches her cheeks and calls her 'this _baby_ though, Brittany,' but it's…okay. Brittany doesn't mind that she's younger. Brittany doesn't mind a _lot_ of things about her than she probably should, and the more time that passes, the more Santana feels confident that it's all going to remain okay.

Liam falls asleep in the car on the way back to Brittany's parents' house. He doesn't wake up when she lifts him out of his car seat and holds him close. He doesn't wake up as they say goodnight to Whitney and Pierce. He doesn't wake up as she puts a nighttime diaper on him, and charged him into his pajamas. He doesn't wake up as she tucks him beneath the covers of the big bed in the guest room. He doesn't wake up as Brittany kisses him three times, and Santana's heart feels like it's in her throat, just so grateful that she gets to bear witness to such a beautiful sight.

"He's a cuddler." Brittany warns. "Just be ready, he's so excited you're here, you might wake up with him like a baby kangaroo on you."

"Oh…okay. And I won't roll over and hurt him or anything?"

"No." She shakes her head, giving a little laugh. "Trust me, he'll wake you up if you squash his hand or anything."

"Okay. I just want to make sure he's safe."

"I can still move him if you're uncomfortable with this."

"I'm not." Santana shakes her head. She loves that she's allowed in Brittany's son's life like this. She loves the idea that Brittany loves her enough that they can sleep like this with her son, almost like a…family. But she _is_ a little nervous. Nervous she'll mess up. Nervous she'll hurt him in her medicated slumber. Nervous that he'll get upset, and she'll ruin everything. "I'm just gonna go wash up and change."

In the bathroom, Santana starts to psych herself out. She undresses, then she scrubs her face she brushes her teeth twice, before she puts pajamas on. She looks at herself in the mirror, scrubbed clean. She takes her pill bottles from her bag, glad she hasn't had to take a benzo, glad she's been _mostly_ calm. Dipping her head down, she swallows her SSRI and her Ambien, and she looks again in the mirror. She should tell Brittany about the rest. She should _know,_ especially because this little boy is in Santana's life now. She should know, and yet, it makes Santana sick to her stomach just thinking about telling her.

"Santana?" Brittany knocks on the door, before opening it slowly. In just her panties, Santana startles, and knocks the bottle off the counter. "Sorry, sorry! I shouldn't have just opened the door."

"It's fine. It's fine." Santana puts an arm over her breasts, still not comfortable with just being topless in front of Brittany when there's not…a reason. "I was just…washing up and taking my medication."

"Here." Brittany picks up the fallen bottle and hands it to Santana, not even glancing at the label as she does.

"Did you need something?"

"I actually just wanted to come in here and make out with you a little. I thought it might make you less tense."

"I'm not tense." Santana defends, but laughs a little when Brittany raises an eyebrow. "Sorry, I just have an anxiety problem."

"I know." She nods, and presses a soft kiss to Santana's mouth. "Can I do anything?"

"No. It's fine, I mean…" She casts her eyes down to the hand that holds the bottle, saying it without actually saying it. "It's fine. I take care of it."

"Oh. Okay, good."

Brittany's non-reaction is the reaction that Santana needed, the reaction that calms every single fear. The reaction that makes her realize that not disclosing every detail of her medical history—which she's already had to do in the hospital she works in—doesn't mean she's lying. The reaction that really, truly tells her that Brittany loves and respects her.

She pulls her sweatpants and tank top on quickly. She leaves the bathroom so that Brittany can use it, and she sits down on the edge of the bed, just looking over at Liam. He's got his blanket tucked beneath his chin, and his arm draped across his forehead. She wasn't lying when she'd said that she'd missed him, and the idea that he's becoming an even _bigger_ part of her life, well, it's amazing feeling.

Her body starts to feel heavy from the Ambien, before Brittany comes out of the bathroom. She knows it'll be a few more minutes before she falls asleep, but she needs to lay down. Carefully, she lifts the covers on one side of Liam, and she slips beneath them, surprised at how little space his frame takes up, and surprised by just how _warm_ the bed is from his body heat. Turning on her side, she looks at him again. She listens to the little snores that he makes. She brushes the hair back from the scarred side of his face, and gently, she kisses him goodnight. Silently she tells him all the things that she feels about him, things she keeps inside.

"I love you." She hears Brittany whisper, coming back into the room and sitting on her side of the bed. "Like, _wow,_ I really love you. I know that you know that, and I'd rather not freak you out, but if you only knew what seeing this did to me."

"Mmhm." Santana's eyes flutter, so close to sleep, though she tries to fight it. "'S nice."

"Yeah." Brittany settles herself, then leans to kiss Santana's head, eyes brimming with _something._ "It's really nice."


	33. Chapter 33

They go back to New York. Santana doubles down on her work, while Brittany schedules Liam's surgery. When she asks Shelby for the week off, she doesn't question it. She just signs the papers, and she tells Santana that it's about time she's used some of her vacation time. She doesn't question it, and Santana breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn't know what she'd have done if she _couldn't_ be with Brittany the whole time. She doesn't know what she'd have done if she had to sneak into his room between patients. She doesn't what she do if he was on her floor, and she had to try and go about her day without spending the entire day there, holding his mother's hand.

She does Samantha Franklin's surgery the day before Liam's. Scrubbing in, she closes her eyes and prays to whomever is out there that it goes well. Kurt is operating with her. That makes it better. No matter what, she trusts him by her side, and he's one of the best surgeons in his department.

The surgery takes hours. Though Santana knew going in that this child's bowels were ravaged, but seeing it is still difficult. Seeing it almost makes her rescind her invitation for Porter to assist. It's all too much, and she feels sick to her stomach over it. But Kurt hands a scalpel to him, Kurt guides him with his words, allowing him to remove inches of destroyed tissue, allowing him to suture and repair. She watches, and she swallows hard. She watches, and then takes her own turn, cutting away at the swollen mass, preparing to send it for even _more_ testing. This surgery, it isn't the end of Sammy's journey. On the contrary, it's just the _very_ beginning.

"I'll keep as much of an eye on her as you do, while you're out." Kurt tells her, after she yanks off her scrub cap and takes a deep breath at the scrub sink. "I know you, you're going to obsess about the recovery, but you don't have to, I'll do it for you."

"To be honest, I don't think there will even be room left in my head to obsess about anything but Liam." Santana admits, letting the hot water run over her hands. "I know I'm leaving her in good hands."

"He'll be in good hands too. Stevens? Corcoran? It doesn't get much better than that."

"It's different. This is why people can't operate on their own kids." Her eyes widen at her words, and she quickly shakes her head. "I mean…I don't mean he's my kid. I just mean…Brittany's my girlfriend, and he's _her_ kid, and I spend a lot of time with him, and…"

"You're really serious about her, aren't you?"

"No fucking shit." Santana rolls her eyes, irritated, for some reason, by the surprise in his voice.

"If it's worth anything, I like her. I think she's good for you."

"You also thought what's her face was good for me. I'm not entirely sure how much stock I take of you opinions."

"In fairness to _moi,_ I thought you were dating Danielle, when you were walking around grinning about Brittany."

"I wasn't _grinning._ " She scoffs. "I was just like…moderately smiling."

"Sure you were." He clicks, shaking out his flattened hair and running his hands through it. "I didn't think I'd live to see the day I finally got to be an uncle."

"Your brother has two kids."

"I mean an uncle to _your_ kids."

"I don't have kids, Hummel."

"Practically." He waves his hand, and she pushes the door open, walking away.

"Not a thing. You either have them, or you don't."

Before Santana leaves for the night, she cleans up her office. She's in a rush to leave, but she's also not. Brittany had taken the day off, and she and Liam have been out all day. After his final pre-op appointment in the morning, she'd wanted to buy him new trains, she'd wanted to get him a collection of new movies, she'd wanted to let him have hot dogs and pizza, before he has to start fasting at four pm. Santana had wanted to be part of it too, but she didn't push her luck. She didn't ask for another day, beyond the week she already took. She didn't even ask Brittany if she _wanted_ her to spend the day with them, because maybe, _maybe_ she just wanted a day alone with her son.

So she doesn't rush. She knows they won't be back yet. The last Brittany texted her, they were at the carousel in Battery Park. She wants him tired out, so he'll sleep well, even if he's hungry. She wants him to sleep well, and she wants him the best prepared he can possibly be for surgery. She doesn't rush, because she'll end up waiting outside Brittany's house for them. She doesn't rush, because she doesn't want _Brittany_ to feel like she has to. She needs this time, and Santana won't just take it away from her.

When she does leave, she draws the shades in her office. She locks her files in her desk, and she locks the door behind her. Though she's taken time off here and there since her start at Columbia-Presbyterian, this is the first time that she's forcing herself to be entirely separated from work. Her patients are covered, her interns are reassigned, and though she'll be in the hospital with Liam, her pager is being turned off. She can't be both there fully for Brittany and be involved with the care of her patients, and so this time, she picks her love and family over anything else.

The light is on when she gets to Brittany's. She has a duffle bag slung over she shoulder, and she walks up the stairs, taking a breath before she knocks on the door. She has not intention of leaving, so long as Brittany wants her there, and something about that, it feels like a major commitment to her. The biggest commitment she's probably ever made. But she'll be here. She'll be whatever Brittany needs. She'll do whatever Brittany needs. She'll make this easier on her, because she cannot even imagine how she's feeling.

"Hey." Brittany opens the door, raking her hands through her hair. Santana can hear the crying from the living room, and her mouth twists, unsure what she should do. "He's mad at me."

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Liam wails, and Santana drops her bag by the door, scanning the room to see him balled up on the couch, his little race red with rage. "Me don't want that one!"

"You don't have to have it, Li." She sighs, resigned.

"Want the chocolate! Want the chocolate!"

"Popsicles." Brittany turns to Santana. "I made apple juice Popsicles. He's overtired, and he wants a fudge pop."

"Oh." Santana nods. She's not really sure what to say to that, she's not sure how to _help._ "Can I do something?"

"No. I've just got to get him to bed." Pinching the bridge of her nose, Brittany picks up the hysterical little boy, holding him tight to her chest, even as he squirms and struggles. "Shh, baby, shh."

"No! No shh! No shh, Mama! No shh!"

Brittany doesn't reply to him, she just carries him up the stairs. Santana isn't sure exactly what she should do. She isn't sure if she should follow Brittany up there, and try to help, or if she should stay down here and wait. She opts for the latter. She bends down, and she begins picking up Liam's toys from the floor. She stacks them up inside of his toy bin. She piles his books on the coffee table. She fixes the pillows on the couch, and she finds Percy wedged in between two cushions. Pursing her lips, Santana cradles the wooden train in her hands, and decides she should bring it to Liam, decides that Brittany will _probably_ be down any second to get it, so she may as well bring it upstairs.

Slowly, she goes up. She doesn't know why she feels so weird about it tonight, she helps put Liam to bed more nights than not lately. But tonight, t feels different. Tonight, it feels like she should let Brittany have time alone with him. Tonight, it feels like she doesn't belong. Tonight…

When she gets to Liam's room, Brittany lays on his bed. He's slumped against her chest, his right arm draped across her. Brittany's thumb runs up and down, soothing the puckered skin. He's not sleeping, Santana can tell as much, but he's exhausted. He _should_ be, but he's not. His eyes are red from crying, but he doesn't make a sound. He just rests in Brittany's warm embrace. He just rests with his mama, the person who loves him the very most in the world. The woman who would do absolutely anything for him.

"Hi." Santana mouths, holding up Percy.

"Thank you." Brittany mouths back, and crooks her finger for Santana to come to them. "Li, Santana brought Percy up."

"Hi Doccer Santana." He slurs through his seldom-used pacifier, not lifting his head.

"Hi, Sir."

"You bringded Percy?"

"I did." She presses him into his left hand, then takes a small step back.

"I needed him."

"I figured. He got into some trouble, I had to save him from being stuck in the couch."

"You a naughty engine, Percy."

"I think he's just a tired engine, Li." Brittany murmurs into his hair.

"I a tired engine too."

"I know you are. But that's why we're going to sleep, right?"

"Uh huh." His eyes flutter closed as Brittany continues to stroke his arm, and Santana just watches. "Lub you Mama. Lub you Doccer Santana."

Santana freezes, just for a moment, when he says those words. Time and again, Brittany has expressed to her how much Liam loves her, but to hear it herself, those sleepy words bubbling out of baby lips, it does something to her. It hits the very core of her being. This little boy, this absolutely _perfect_ little boy falls asleep saying that to her. Slowly, Brittany's eyes drift up to meet hers. She's smiling. It's this soft sort of smile, not the _I adore you, Santana_ smile that she wears quite often, but different. It's a smile of contentment, Santana thinks, and she just presses her fingers to her chest, letting Brittany know hoe deeply Liam's mumbles hit her. Letting Brittany know the gratitude she has for being part of his life.

"Goodnight, my sweet boy." Brittany whispers, several moments later. Kissing his forehead, she moves him carefully from her chest and settles him beneath his covers. "I love you."

When Brittany gets up, she stands at the edge of Liam's bed for a long while, just silently watching him. Santana wrings her hands in front of her, unsure, again, exactly how she should proceed. It takes time for her to build the courage, but eventually, she steps closer. Eventually, she presses her hand to the small of Brittany's back. Eventually, she gives Brittany a body to lean into. Eventually, she presses a kiss to Brittany's temple, when she rests her head on her shoulder.

"You okay?" Santana asks her, voice cracking only a little as she tries to be the strong one, the grownup one, so Brittany can let go.

"I'm okay. Just want it over."

"What can I do?"

"I think…I honestly think I just need to take a shower. Have ten minutes to clear my head, ten minutes alone."

"Okay. Okay, yeah. I can get you some tea? Or a glass of wine or something?"

"I don't think so." Brittany shakes her head. "I think I just want to go to bed when I get out of the shower."

Santana would be lying if she said it didn't sting her a little. She'd be lying if she said that Brittany needing to be alone, even with her right here, wasn't difficult for her. She'd be lying if she said that feeling absolutely helpless didn't fucking suck. But she's not going to sulk and wallow. She's not going to make this night _more_ difficult on Brittany. She's just going to turn down the bed. She's going to use the bathroom in the hallway to wash up and take her anxiety pills—actively skipping her Ambien tonight. She's going to change into her own pajamas. She's going to get beneath the sheets, and read her medical journal until Brittany comes out. She's going to give Brittany space, because that's what she needs, and making sure she has all she needs is _exactly_ the reason why she's here.

She comes out a half hour later. She towel dries her hair as she walks, and she pulls a long t-shirt over her head. She's _exhausted,_ Santana can see it in just how much effort it seems to take for her to get dressed, and she just watches, helpless, until Brittany sits down on the bed. While Brittany stares blankly at the wall, Santana can hear her slow breaths. Slowly, she moves her hand so it's beside Brittany's thigh. Slowly, she moves forward, offering her everything to Brittany, should she need it. And slowly, Brittany turns toward her, falling into a waiting embrace.

The tears come faster than Santana expected. She's only seen Brittany cry once before, that awful night in the coffee shop, where Santana herself had caused it. But this breaks her heart. Now, Brittany presses her ear to Santana's heart. She lays back, with arms around her. She tries to ground herself, as silent tears stream down her cheeks, faster than Santana can wipe them all away.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Brittany sucks in breath after breath, quite obviously trying to make it true. "I'm sorry."

"Britt."

"I'm fine." She repeats. "Fine."

"Okay." Santana nods. She's out of her depth. So far out of her depth. But she has to be good at this. She can't mess up now, not when Brittany needs her most. "You sure I can't get you anything?"

"No. If I have a glass of wine, I think I'll vomit." She sighs heavily. "I'm glad you're here, even if I haven't acted like it."

"You don't have to act any way. I know you're really worried…and I don't want you to think you've gotta be any kind of way for _me._ "

"I'm _terrified._ " Brittany confesses in a puff of breath. "I'm absolutely terrified. I've done _thousands_ of surgeries in my life. I know how low risk this surgery is. But that doesn't mean that signing those release forms this morning didn't make me absolutely sick. He's been through _so_ much, and he always has a smile on his face. I need to not fall apart in front of him, because he's actually _excited_ about wearing his new dragon hospital gown. He's so brave, and right now, I feel like I can't be."

"Let me be brave for you." Santana whispers, her concern for Brittany allowing a genuine bravado that she didn't believe possible. "You're the strongest person I've ever met. Let me help you, Brittany, please. Let me do _something._ "

"Okay." Brittany nods slowly, tilting her head up to look into Santana's eyes. "That means a lot."

While Santana keeps her arms around Brittany, she falls into a fitful sort of sleep, turning and murmuring and kicking the blanket off her feet. For her part, Santana stays mostly awake. It makes her anxious, seeing Brittany so unsettled, and she wants to make sure she isn't sleeping through any sort of her needs. So she watches her. She watches her, she runs her fingers through her long hair, and she listens for any noise through the baby monitor on Brittany's nightstand. This urge she feels to protect them both, it's overwhelming, and no matter what, she won't let them down.

Brittany's alarm is set to go off at 5:45. Liam needs to be at the hospital by seven, and she'd told Santana that she doesn't want to be up against time if he's grumpy and difficult to get ready. At 5:15, Santana gets out of bed and into the shower. She's quick, like she's good at, and at 5:36, she's dressed and downstairs making coffee. She hears some stirring upstairs soon after, but it's surprisingly quiet, and it doesn't surprise her when Brittany comes into the kitchen, carrying a pajama clad and still sleeping Liam in her arms.

"I'm just going to let him sleep." She mouths, nodding her gratitude as she picks up the to-go mug of steaming coffee. "Ugh you're the best."

"Do you, uh, want me to drive your car?" Santana shrugs off the compliment and sets her sights on the next task. "I mean, if you want to sit with him in the back or something."

"No, it's fine. He'll be asleep." She shakes her head, and Santana pulls her lips into her mouth, nodding slowly. "On the way home though, that would be really, _really_ good."

"Okay…cool."

Brittany is quiet on the way to the hospital. She's quiet as she lifts a still-sleeping Liam back out of his car seat. She's quiet when she kisses his head and murmurs to wake him up in the waiting room. She's quiet as Santana sets up camp there, and hugs Liam close before Brittany takes him back to pre-surgical. She's quiet, and Santana knows it's because of the lump in her throat, the lump that she has to keep down, lest she cry in front of her son.

When she takes him in, Santana distracts herself with the drone of sensationalist election coverage blaring on the waiting room television. Though she could go up to the doctor's lounge, though she could _probably_ go into the gallery and watch, if she really wanted to, she makes herself at home here instead. She makes herself at home, and she keeps one eye on the door, waiting for Brittany to come out. When she does, Santana is quick to her feet, quick to step toward her, quick to wrap her arms around the woman she loves, and holds her when her knees buckle.

"He's gonna be okay, Britt. He's gonna be okay, I promise."

"I know." Her words are muffled in Santana's shoulder, but Santana can tell she isn't crying, she can tell she just _needs_ an embrace, someone steady, someone Santana is trying so, _so_ desperately to be. "You really don't know how much it means to me that you're here."

"There's no way I'd be anywhere else. I…I _want_ to be here."

"It's really, really different, not feeling like I'm doing it alone."

"Your parents—"

"I don't mean _alone,_ alone." Brittany shakes her head against Santana's chest. "I mean…I don't even know what I mean, I'm so tired and twisted in my head. It's just different, having a person. Having _my_ person."

"I'm your person?" Santana's a little shocked by it, with the friends Brittany has, with her family…

"Yeah. You're my person. Liam's my little person, but you, you're the one I want—no, that I _need_ by my side when things are hard. It's probably really selfish to put that all on you, but I've been a single mom for more than two years now. I didn't _have_ a person. Now you're here, and I don't feel so lonely anymore." It's a new sort of candor from Brittany, one that surprises Santana. She's usually so collected, so put together. Santana knows that she loves her, but this is different. This is to be part of a partnership, this is to be Brittany's rock, as much as Brittany is her own. "I don't feel like I have no one to talk to about the decisions I make, because I don't want to worry about upsetting them. I mean…my parents, over Liam, not that I think it's okay to upset _you_ over things."

"No, yeah, I got that. I'm just kinda shocked you trust me with this stuff. I _want_ you to, but—" Santana shakes her head, clearing away her penchant for self-deprecation and focusing on what's really important. "You don't have to feel lonely anymore, or like you can't share stuff with me."

"I really don't." Brittany's arms wrap tighter around Santana, holding her, _squeezing_ her. "I really, really don't."

They sit and they wait. Santana holds both of Brittany's hands in hers when she needs it. She gets up to get her coffee when she needs it, even though Brittany insists she can get it herself. She stands up at Brittany's side, when Shelby comes out first, and she braces herself. That's her reflexive instinct, it has been for her entire life, to brace herself for disaster, to assume the world is about to collapse around her. It's much better to be prepared for _that,_ and be pleasantly surprised when it _doesn't,_ than to be caught off guard, to be wholly shocked, when something comes to wreck you.

"Hey." Shelby smiles at them, a smile that can't yet put Santana at ease. "Liz will be right out, but since you're my friends and colleagues, I wanted to come personally to assure you that Liam did phenomenally."

"He's okay?" Brittany's breathy words are strained, and Santana aches do make it all go away.

"He's okay."

"Why don't you come on back and see for yourself?" Liz opens the double doors, and Santana steps back a little, letting Brittany go.

"Can she…?" Brittany gestures to Santana, eyes pleading.

"That's up to you. I can't very well keep someone on Shelby's staff out of pediatric recovery."

"Will you…?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I will."

Santana holds tight to Brittany's hand, as she tries to fully absorb all of what Liz is saying about what she did in surgery, and what Liam will need during his recovery, about his prognosis for full range of motion. She holds tight as they walk into the recovery room, and over to Liam's bed. She holds tight, until Brittany sinks down, and she needs both hands to cradle the face of her little boy, peaceful, in his medicated sleep.

"You're okay, Li, you're okay." She presses with a kiss into his forehead. "Mama's here now, and you're okay."

"So long as nothing changes." Liz tells Santana, giving Brittany her moment with Liam. "We can continue with the plan for him to go home."

"I'm staying with them. If I need to be a doctor, not her girlfriend, I—"

"Will _call_ me. You're not a doctor on this case, Lopez, and for good reason."

"If I have to—"

"There's absolutely no reason you'll have to. You want to help?"

"Of course I do." Santana nods eagerly, desperate to do something that is actually _helpful,_ desperate to be more than just a hand-holder.

"Get him ice cream. Make them dinner. Go to the corner store to pick up more milk. You're not a doctor this week, don't act like one."

Stunned by Liz's candor, Santana just nods. She's not sure how far she can distance herself from what she's good at, but she'll try. She'll try not to step on toes, she'll try not to make things more difficult than they need to be.

There's chatter between Liz and Shelby, but soon, they leave. They leave, and Santana continues to stand back, watching how Brittany brushes Liam's hair with her fingers, watching how she inspects his IV wires, watching how she touches his tiny right hand, wondering, without a doubt, if he'll be able to use it, when this is all over. She watches, and she falls in love with her over and over and over again. There's something about watching a woman with a child, something about watching the woman she _loves,_ with _her_ child that gives Santana a sort of determination she's never known before.


	34. Chapter 34

Getting out of the hospital is beyond stressful, and takes far longer than either Santana or Brittany expected. Considering Santana's profession, she _probably_ should have expected the delays, given Liam's age, but she doesn't think of him like she does her patients. She thinks of him as a tiny superhero, capable of absolutely anything. But alas, he woke up screaming and crying, his stomach aching from the anesthesia and his empty stomach. He refused to drink anything and urinate, he refused to let Liz, and even Shelby do the final check before they discharged him. He even refused _Santana,_ when she finally convinced her colleagues to let her help. All he wanted was Brittany, holding him, soothing him. All he wanted was his Mama, and quite frankly, Santana didn't blame him one bit.

Six hours after his surgery began, an orderly pushes a wheelchair with Brittany, holding Liam in her arms, to the curb, where Santana had pulled up her car. Liam wails as Brittany gets him into his car seat, careful, so careful with his wounded arm. Liam wails, even as she tucks Percy and his blanket in with him. He wails the whole way back to the house, and wails as Brittany unbuckles him and carries him up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Li, baby, shh, shh, Mama's here." Brittany continues to soothe, though her voice cracks, and her hands rake through her hair. "Mama's right here."

"No like it! No like it!" He claws at the soft cast that protects the sutures on his arm. "Go 'way! Owie! Owie!"

"I know, it hurts a lot, but what did I promise you? That it's going to go away soon. That in a few weeks, we'll get this off of you, and you'll be able to play with _both_ arms, right?"

"No! No! No!" He cries harder, and Brittany crawls into his bed with him, holding him against her chest. She knows that he's probably feeling pain _everywhere,_ post-surgery, but Santana knows that the best way for Brittany to calm him is to hold him just like this. "No Mama! No!"

"Let's sing your song, Li, let's rock you to sleep."

"No, Mama, no." He whimpers, his face pressed into her neck. "No, Mama."

" _Would you like to swing on a star?"_ She begins, looking up at Santana, and patting the space beside her on the bed, and invitation to sit, and invitation into this _moment. "Carry moonbeams home in a jar?_

"Doccer Santana?" Liam hiccups, picking up his head a little.

"I'm right here, Sir."

"You can sing too?"

"Yeah." She sucks in a breath, taken aback by it. "I can sing."

"Sing with Mama."

Santana doesn't hesitate. She's certain there's nothing she could deny Liam. She's certain that she'd give the entire world to see the smile on his face again. It's a strange feeling, but it's a _right_ feeling, and so she starts to sing along with Brittany. _And all the monkeys aren't in a zoo, Every day you meet quite a few. So you see, it's all up to you. You can be better than you are._

Before they finish, Liam falls asleep. Santana is surprised, actually, that it took him so long. His little body trembles from the lingering impact of the anesthesia, and Brittany tucks a pillow beneath his arm, and a blanket over his body. She kisses his forehead, letting her lips linger there, checking for a temperature, Santana thinks. Lord Tubbington hops up on the bed while Brittany's still leaning over him, and Santana scratches behind his ear, appreciate that he'll watch over Liam.

Once the monitor and the sound machine are turned on, Santana follows Brittany back downstairs. For several seconds, she lingers in the doorway of the kitchen, as if she's going to start cooking something, before she simply sinks down on the couch, dropping her head back and closing her eyes. If Santana is exhausted from the day, she knows Brittany must be absolutely _wrecked,_ and she shifts her weight between feet, before she sits down beside her.

"I think I could sleep for ten years and still be tired." Brittany sighs. "I'm so glad he's home, but I know how much pain he'll be in. Last time…he was in the hospital for twenty-nine days on a morphine drip."

"Twenty-nine days…"

"Twenty-nine days, and when I brought him home, my first experience with motherhood was that of a burn unit nurse. Sorry…God, I _never_ dwell on the past, but lately, I feel like it's all I've been doing."

"You can tell me whatever you want." Santana slowly brings her hands to Brittany's back, letting her thumbs dig in, massaging up her neck, and into her hair. "I think I'm so lucky to have Liam in my life right now, and I love hearing all about who he was before i got to meet him."

"He's always been special. Since the day he was born, he just filled up the room with brightness. His face is what saved my mother after my sister died, I swear to you. She was devastated, and then there was Liam, recovering from surgery in a plastic crib, and smiling. She figured if _he_ could smile, so could she."

"It must have been really good for you to have him too, right?"

"Yeah, it was." Brittany nods. " I was _so_ close to my sister, and at first, I really wasn't sure I could adopt Liam. I didn't hesitate about _taking_ him. I knew from the very beginning that I'd have guardianship of him, like she'd asked, but even minus the crap in my relationship, I wasn't sure me being his _mom_ was the best thing for him. He _had_ one, you know?"

"I can't even wrap my head around how you've done the things you've done honestly."

"Because it's what she would have done. That's what my mom told me, anyway. That she'd be more than happy for her son to have two moms, her and me, and that she'd be happy someday too, if Liam had _three_ moms."

"Three?" Santana swallows hard, her stomach dropping, not, necessarily, in a bad way.

"If that's what the future brought. Mom, mother-figure, stepmom? I don't know what it would look like, just…part of our family." Brittany shrugs, then shakes her head a little. "Anyway, that feels really good, what you're doing. I could use this after a long day in surgery any time."

"That's because you do that teeth grinding thing while you operate." She's surprised she can find her voice, after the things Brittany said, but she does, and it sounds _mostly_ normal.

"I wore a mouth guard for two weeks during my residency."

"Did you?" She has to giggle, picturing Brittany wearing one under her surgical mask.

"It ended up being nothing but a distraction. I almost had I scrub out and rip it out of my mouth in the middle of a labiaplasty."

"I was going to make a _really_ bad joke."

"I kind of opened myself up to it." Brittany leans back into Santana's hands, and she massages a little harder. "This is the most relaxed I've been in a week."

"Are you hungry? Do you want wine?"

"Yes and yes. But right now, I just want this. I'll order something on my phone in a minute."

It ends up being more than a minute. It's close to an hour later when Brittany orders from the Italian restaurant around the corner. She talks to her parents for awhile, filling them in on what's going on, assuring her mom that they're okay, that they can come down over the weekend as planned. By the time Santana gets in the bath with her, it's obvious Brittany is wiped out. She can see her eyes drooping before she even finishes her second glass of wine. When she gets out, she goes back to check one last time on Liam, and Santana turns down the bed. She plugs Brittany's phone in, and she pulls the blackout curtains. She knows Brittany will be up and down, but at least she won't have to wake up with the sun if Liam is still asleep.

When Brittany comes back into her bedroom, she doesn't even bother to put on her glasses and try to read before bed. She leans in to kiss Santana goodnight, and she sinks into the pillow, closing her eyes after a murmured _I love you._ Santana watches her for awhile, unable to fall asleep herself. She watches her, until she's sound asleep, and then she fidgets.

Afraid she'll wake Brittany with all of her moving around, Santana slips out of bed. She's not sure exactly _what_ she's going to do while Brittany's sleeping, but she'd rather let her sleep in peace. She goes down to the kitchen, and she fill a glass of water. She thinks about what Brittany had said earlier. She thinks about the gravity of those words, _if Liam had three moms._ They lay heavy on her chest, the thought of it, the possible _implication_ of it, and with her glass of water tight in hand, she wanders through the living room.

She and Brittany have been together since the spring, and now they're on the cusp of winter. Among the pictures of Liam, lined up on the mantle, arranged on the end tables, there are some of Santana. She hadn't notice them before, but they've found their way into the mix. One of her leaning back laughing, Liam in her lap at the park, one of her kissing Brittany's face, a selfie Brittany had taken, that she'd gotten printed, apparently, one of the three of them, ice cream all over Liam, and Brittany, looking at both he and Santana in some sort of way. Somehow, someway, she's become so fully entwined in their lives, and Santana isn't sure whether to throw up right on the carpet, or jump for joy.

Instead, she opts for going back to bed. These are deep thoughts for after midnight, especially after the day she's had. She creeps up the stairs, still holding her glass of water. Figuring she may as well check on him while she's awake, Santana slowly pushes the partially opened door to Liam's room, and approaches his bed.

"Mama?" Santana is jarred by his little voice, raspy from being intubated in surgery, jarred by the word _Mama,_ though she knows, rationally, that he assumed she was Brittany. "Mama, you here?"

"It's not Mama, it's Santana, buddy." She whispers, hoping maybe Brittany will stay asleep a little longer, if she can handle this. "How you feeling?"

"Pull-up's'all wet."

"Oh. Okay." Santana nods, she can handle this, she can _absolutely_ handle this. "Do you want me to change you?"

"You know how?" He eyes her skeptically, and Santana bites back a laugh.

"I do know how, Sir." She smiles softly, leaning over the bed to kiss his head and reassure him. It's a new sort of gesture for her, but it feels right.

"Doccer Santana?"

"Uh huh?" She looks up from pulling out the bin of Pull-Ups and wipes from under the bed.

"You gon' lay wif me?"

"If that's what you want, Liam, I'd be happy to lay with you."

Santana changes him. She's not sure if she should get him up to use the bathroom, so she doesn't. She doesn't want to do anything that puts him at risk of falling, of getting hurt, when she's trying to handle this on her own so her girlfriend can sleep. She'll have to wake up when her alarm goes off to give him more medicine, but for now, Santana can take care of thing. She lets Liam sip from her water glass, giggling as he does, because he never drinks from the big ones. She tucks him back under the covers, making sure his arm is still positioned properly on the pillow, and she lays down beside him, smiling a little, as he snuggles into her.

"You can tell me a story?"

"Uh…yeah. What kind of story?"

"You s'possed to tell me that! Mama say."

"Okay." Santana nods, wracking her brain for _something._ "Let me tell you a story about when I was a little girl."

Santana tells him story after story, the _good_ parts of her childhood, the parts where her father stayed in the city to work, and she and her mother went to visit aunts and cousins and her _abuelita._ He listens, wide-eyed, and it makes her feel good to see his rapt attention. It makes her feel good to have someone to share these stories with, the ones she holds so close to her heart. She can tell he's starting to squirm in pain toward the end of one, and when she looks over at his owl wake-up clock, she sees Brittany, standing in the doorway, medication in hand, and a soft smile on her face.

"Hey." Santana mouths, then turns back to Liam. "Look who's here."

"'S it Mama?" He cranes his neck, but winces when he moves too much.

"It's Mama. I'm gonna get up so she can lay with you?"

"You lay too." He shakes his head. "You don't go."

"Okay. Okay. I'm not going anywhere."


	35. Chapter 35

A week after Liam's surgery, Santana goes back to work. After a week at home with Brittany, it feels strange being back in the hospital. It feels strange to be checking on her patients, and not on Liam. It feels strange to be away from them for twelve hours at a time. It feels strange, but Santana can't ask Shelby for any more time off than she already has.

The following week, as Brittany prepares to go back to work, she's doing two weeks of nights. Santana is kind of pouty about it, because she's on days, and that means they spend a _lot_ less time together. Her self-pity fades though, when she realizes how concerned Brittany is about leaving him to sleep on his cot in the hospital day care overnight. Though she'd thought leaving him overnight would be better after surgery, like it _usually_ was, he's still recovering, he still has his arm bandaged, and the idea of him sleeping alone seems to daunt her more than it would if she were sending him during the day.

Santana mulls this over for four hours, after she calls to Brittany when she goes out for coffee and hears how frantic she sounds, trying to get ready for tomorrow. They've talked about it before, in the hypothetical. They've talked about her taking Liam, they've talked about her making things easier for Brittany. They've talked about it, but some abstract conversation is different than reality. Some abstract conversation is _way_ different than Santana feeding him dinner, putting him to bed, crawling alone into Brittany's bed, and just…sleeping there without her. It's a lot, and she turns it over in her head for hours, wanting to be completely certain that it might be something Brittany wants, wanting to be completely certain it's something that _she_ wants.

She does, she eventually decides, half-ignoring Kurt as she eats her turkey sandwich on the couch in his office between patients. He's talking about some show he dragged Dave to see, and she can only listen to him drone on about it so much. She figures he'll go to Berry's office later, and she'll actually give a shit, so why bother? She's more interested in obsessing over what Brittany will think, when she tells her that she doesn't have to drop Liam off overnight, if she doesn't want to. She's more interested in obsessing about what this means for their relationship. The night of Liam's surgery, Brittany had made it quite clear that she thinks she'll eventually end up with a partner who could be another parent to Liam. Is Santana capable of that? Is Santana the one who Brittany _wants_ to be that? That's a question that she'll have to leave unanswered for another day.

After work, she goes to Brittany's. She picks up dinner on her way, texting Brittany not to stress about it, because she's got it covered. When she gets there, Liam is in his playroom, lining up his trains and talking to Lord Tubbington. He's quiet, and Santana doesn't want to disturb him. Instead, she just follows Brittany into the kitchen, dropping the requested bucket of fried chicken down on the table, and accepting the beer Brittany holds out to her. It's cold and snowy outside, Brittany's overnights in the pit _bound_ to be full of all sorts of a fall injuries— _I absolutely need a plastic surgeon to do my stitches,_ Santana is reminded of Brittany's impressions of her wealthy emergency patients—but here in the kitchen, it's warm and cozy, making Santana smile.

"What?" The corners of Brittany's mouth turn up in a smile, and Santana shrugs a little.

"I just like coming here." She admits softly, picking at her cuticles.

"I don't know if you know this, but _I_ really like you coming here too. I'm super bummed about being on opposite schedules again, especially because it means sleeping without you."

"I…uh." Santana clamps down on the inside of her cheek, a silent _spit it out_ measure. "I mean…it has nothing to do with sleeping with you, or anything, but…um…I was just thinking about the stuff we talked about a couple times. I know you're nervous about sending Liam to daycare overnight, and…since I'm home, I wanted to tell you that I'd totally be glad to stay with him. I mean, obviously, only if you want to. I won't be offended or anything, I just…"

"You want to stay with him?" Brittany arches her eyebrow, and the disbelief on her face isn't the incredulous type, it's something else.

"Yeah…but I mean it, it's fine if that's not what you want, or if that's not where we are in our relationship yet or anything."

"Do _you_ feel like we're there?"

"I, um—"

"Sorry." She shakes her head a little, and steps closer to Santana. "That sounded like a loaded question, but it wasn't. _I'm_ there, absolutely. You know I trust you with him, that doesn't change overnight, but is this something _you_ feel comfortable with?"

"I'm totally comfortable with him. I felt like we got to spend a ton of time together last week, and I can handle dinner and bedtime and breakfast."

"No. I know you can handle Li. I mean, is this something you're comfortable with for _us?_ I'm not asking to freak you out, but it's a step, and I want to make sure we're on the same page about taking it."

"Is it a step _you_ want to take though Britt? With me, I mean."

"Yeah, it is, but that doesn't mean you also have to want it."

"I wouldn't really be bringing it up if I didn't. You know I run from uncomfortable situations, don't you?" Santana has to smile a little at herself, when she hears Brittany's laugh.

"So we're doing this?"

"What exactly is _this?_ "

"Well, I'm going to give you a key. I wanted to do that anyway, but I didn't want to be presumptuous. This just gives me the perfect opportunity."

"Oh. Yeah. Totally. I mean…you can have my key too, if you want it."

"Thanks." Brittany grins, and she leans in to kiss Santana. "I'll also give you the keys to my car. It's just easier for me to meet you at the hospital, and trade off."

"How very _Grey's Anatomy._ "

"I'd rather you pick a lady couple _not_ from _Grey's._ You know, I prefer _my_ own love stories without plane crashes and leg amputations and cheating and custody battles and seventeen boxes of tissues in twelve seasons."

"I didn't realize you were such a fan." Santana teases. "Also, you know if anything remotely close to all the absurdity happened at Columbia Pres, they'd probably have to shut down our hospital when everyone stopped working there."

"That's an absolutely fair assumption." Brittany chuckles a little, and tucks a lock of Santana's hair beside her ear. "But is that okay with you? I know we keep our personal life really quiet in the hospital…"

"It's fine." She shrugs. "They spread rumors about us that _aren't_ true, so if they're going to talk about us, may as well give them something real to say. Wow, that was, uh, really calm coming from me?"

"It really was. Who _are_ you?"

"Doccer Santana, Mama! You forgetted her?" Liam wanders into the kitchen, putting his one good hand on his hip and furrowing his little brow.

"I could _never_ forget her." Brittany winks, and picks him up to sit him in his booster seat. "Are you hungry, Li?"

"Yeah! We havin' chicken?"

"We are! And biscuits, and corn."

"Yay, yay, yay, yay, YAY!" He drums against the table, and beams at Santana. "You bringeded me chicken!"

"I did! Did you know this is one of my _favorites?_ "

"Noooo. 'S mine!" Liam giggles. "I forgetted to say hi to you Doccer Santana!"

"Well, hello sir." She extends her hand, taking his. "I heard you did some fun things today."

"Yeah! But tomorrow, Mama needs'a work."

"We were actually going to talk to you about that, Li." Brittany sets Liam's prepared plate down in front of him, and hands Santana an empty one so she can make hers. "Santana is going to have a sleepover with you tomorrow night."

"In her house? With my other trains? Mama you comin' too?" His eyes light up, and Brittany shakes her head a little.

"I'm still going to go to work. We're going to go meet Santana there, and _then_ she's gonna drive our car, and bring you back here. But I bet if you asked, she'd bring one or two of the trains she has for you at her house."

"Will you? Will you?" He wiggles in his seat.

"I definitely will." Santana promises. She considers, for a moment, offering to take him to the toy store, to let him pick out whatever he wants, before she changes her mind. If she's going to do this, if she's going to be part of Liam's life in this…new sort of way, she can't do that. She can't just spoil him rotten, like she wants to. "You just tell me which ones you want, and I'll make sure I don't forget them when I go home."

"Okey! Okey! Mighty Mack, Duck and 'Sabella!"

"I _think_ that sounds like three." Brittany arches an eyebrow, though Santana can tell she'll give in on that. _"But_ since it's your first night with Santana, I'll let it slide."

After dinner, Brittany walks Santana through Liam's bedtime routine. She's been part of it for months now, but Santana knows she wants to make sure she has it down, and Santana _also_ knows that Brittany will leave her a list. Santana, for her own part, is repeating it over and over in her head. She doesn't want to miss a single thing. She doesn't want to mess up on the first day, so Brittany feels like she can't count on her.

Once Liam is asleep, Brittany gets her things together for work. She'd taken some time while Liam was recovering to work on her ongoing research on some new type of skin grafting, and the desk in her office is more disorderly than it normally would be. Santana watches some cooking show in the living room, as to give Brittany her space to do what she has to do, but occasionally, she peers in on her. The way she sits with her glasses on, pen in hand, is a _definite_ turn on, and she just can't help but stare, leaning against the frame of the door, arms crossed over her chest.

"How long have you been there?" Brittany looks up over her glasses, then combs her hair off her face with her fingers. "Wow, I've been in here much longer than I'd planned. Sorry about that."

"I'm not exactly one to comment on how long someone works." Santana shrugs. "Besides, I was enjoying the view."

"Of me organizing my research papers?"

"Yeah, I mean…yeah, who wouldn't?"

"On that note." Brittany laughs a little, slipping the stack of papers she'd been arranging into a folder. "It's time for bed."

"You don't have to—"

"Oh no." A glimmer dances in Brittany's eyes, sending a jolt of arousal straight between Santana's legs. "I definitely have to. I haven't properly thanked you for being the _best_ girlfriend of all time, or shown you how much I love you yet today."

Brittany stands up, and the way she walks toward Santana makes her knees weak. For obvious reasons, they haven't exactly had the most active sex life in the past few weeks, but now, now, as Brittany approaches her, Santana knows that's about to change. Santana knows that Brittany wants her just as bad as she wants Brittany, and she can't help but squeak as Brittany presses into her, giving her a searing kiss, making her ache for _more._

There's no time wasted getting up the stairs. Santana doesn't think she's ever moved that quickly in her life, but Brittany's sense of urgency is kind of hot, and so, she slips out of her jeans before the door is even locked behind them. If she's telling the truth, she's kind of _desperate_ for this too, and she lets Brittany press her back on the bed, lets Brittany suck hard on the sensitive spot on her neck, and pull her shirt and sports bra over her head in one quick motion.

By the time Santana looks back up, Brittany is in only her bra and panties. She blinks quickly, trying to comprehend how that's even possible, before Brittany kisses her below the naval, and all rational thoughts go out the window.

"Jeeze Britt." She slurs, voice cloudy with arousal. "You just—"

Santana's words are cut short when Brittany's lips trail down to the of her left thigh, letting them graze, just barely, over the newly shaven skin to the right of it. Sucking in a breath, Santana closes her eyes, and before she knows it, Brittany is hovering above her, pressing a soft kiss to her mouth.

She deepens the kiss, curling her tongue with Santana's, sliding her knee up, just a little, so there's a barely there pressure against Santana's sex. It's unlike anything she's ever done before, surprising Santana with what she'll do next, but she can't say she isn't enjoying it, she can't say she doesn't feel a new sort of thrill, each time her girlfriend moves her lips, her fingers, her knee.

"Tell me what you want." Brittany husks, thumb circling her right nipple.

"I don't…I just…want you."

"Tell me how. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."

"I want…I want…" Santana arches up, when Brittany tilts her head down and sucks her peaked nipple into her mouth. "Your mouth."

"Hmm, like this?" She smirks into Santana's skin, and Santana buries her fingers in her hair, nudging her closer, nudging her down. "Tell me, Santana."

"Fuck." It comes out in a hiss, something about this _really_ getting her going. "I want you to go down on me. I want…I want your tongue inside of me. And I want to…I want to go down on you at the same time."

"Oh?" Brittany's eyebrows shoot up, and Santana realizes she said that out loud, realizes she's said that thing she's sort of fantasized about for awhile, but had no intention of saying. Heat creeps up her neck, but as Brittany's fingers trail up her inner thigh, she's not coherent enough for embarrassment. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Uh huh."

Santana breathes a sigh of relief when Brittany doesn't question it, doesn't balk, disgusted. For obvious reasons, Santana has never done this before, and maybe it borders on pornographic, but the intrigue of doing it with Brittany, coupled with her heightened sense of arousal has made her willing enough to speak her desire.

Before she crawls up Santana's body and lowers herself down, Brittany kisses her hard and slow. She brushes her nose and looks into her eyes, murmuring _I love you_ as she does. It's what Santana needs to quell the butterflies that threaten to turn her stomach into a nervous mess. It's what she needs to close her eyes and fully enjoy when Brittany sinks down on her face, to fully enjoy the taste that floods her mouth, to fully enjoy the way Brittany's thighs bracket her ears, and nothing in the world exists but her pleasuring Brittany, and Brittany spreading Santana's legs, and licking that first stripe through her aching sex.

It's almost unreal, the way Santana feels. Somewhere in the peripherals of her mind, she feels the coil forming low in her belly. She feels Brittany's nails biting into her thighs. She feels her heart rate accelerate. But it's all secondary. Her forethought focuses on Brittany's pleasure. It focuses on sucking her clit into her mouth, on flicking her tongue in just the right way, on making this the best possible experience for her girlfriend. It's the _best_ feeling, being wholly surrounded by her, and so when her own orgasm sneaks up on her, _just_ as she feels Brittany pulsating as well, she's rendered breathless and gasping.

Brittany continues to give soft, tender licks, easing her down, and though Santana is unsure she's capable, she follows suit. She follows suit, until she's nudging Brittany off with her knee, until she absolutely can't handle any more pleasure. As she crawls back up the bed, gathering Santana in her arms, peppering her neck and shoulders with kisses, Brittany smiles. She adores her, Santana _feels_ that more than ever lately, and as she falls asleep, murmuring a goodnight to Brittany, she thinks maybe, maybe, she believes in their love story more than ever before.

When she wakes up the next morning, Santana is feeling particularly mushy. She doesn't want to leave Brittany's house. She wants to snuggle a little longer, before she gets up and makes pancakes for her, and for Liam too. She wants to sit around the breakfast table, sharing the paper after Liam has gone off to play in his playroom. She wants to sprawl on the couch while Brittany builds a fire, and then she wants to make Liam hot chocolate and watch him drop marshmallow after marshmallow inside of it. She wants to live like she's inside of a snow globe or something, nothing but them, in Brittany's house that matters. But she can't. She's got a real world job, and too much work to do.

So she leaves. She kisses Brittany just as she's rousing from slumber, and she races home. She would have stayed longer, but she needs to get Liam's trains. She needs to shower, and she needs to pack a new overnight bag. She feels like she's been almost living out of one for so long now, but it's fine. She wouldn't trade nights at Brittany's for anything in the world.

Her day is impossibly long. She does back to back surgeries well into the afternoon, and she can barely pull off finishing her rounds before it's 5:30, and she needs to get ready to go home with Liam. Truth be told, she's nervous. It feels like a make or break moment in her life. Where six months ago, she was trying to rationalize just how strongly she felt about Brittany, now, she's in full acceptance of her feelings, and more frequently than expected, she wonders what comes next.

At ten to six, Liam bursts into her office. He's all dressed up, in his tiny khakis and a blue sweater, and he wastes no time climbing up on Santana's lap to give her a big, one armed hug. She hugs him back, and just like that, her anxiety melts away. Just like that, she knows she made the right decision volunteering to do this.

With a quick kiss to Brittany's lips, not caring that her office door is open, and an exchange of keys, Santana ushers Liam out to the parking garage. He kicks his legs excitedly as Santana buckles him into his car seat, and once she adjusts the driver's seat, they're off. The whole way home, Liam chatters in the back seat, driving Percy along his legs, and Santana is extra-cautious of the post-rush hour traffic and the falling snow. She'll keep him as safe as possible, that's her most important task right now.

"Doccer Santana! Wha's for dinner?" Liam bounds in the front door of the house.

"I was going to make us some spaghetti."

"Butter?"

"Of course butter." She smiles at him, locking the door behind them, and setting her work bag down on the table in the entryway. "I just want to change out of my work clothes real quick, okay?"

"Yup!"

Santana doesn't expect it, but Liam follows her right up the stairs. He follows her right into Brittany's bedroom, and he sits down on the floor, making tracks in the carpet with Percy and…Gordon, Santana thinks the big blue train he has is called. She's not really sure what to do, if she should just change right here, if she should go into the bathroom, or if he'll follow her if she goes in there. For simplicity's sake, she opts for simply turning around and pulling out jeans and a Columbia sweatshirt from her overnight bag, and changing as quickly as possible.

Dinner is easy. They eat spaghetti, and Liam tells her all about his day playing outside in the snow. She can almost picture Brittany wrapping his arm in plastic wrap, and having him keep it tucked inside of his coat so he doesn't wet the stitches, then the two of them, dancing under the heavy snowflakes, and she wishes she'd been there. She wishes she could be there for _everything,_ and while she's wishing, she wishes that this, the very best thing in her life, never ends.

After dinner, Santana bathes Liam, careful to keep his arm dry, careful not to get soap in his eyes. He grins the whole time, and he grins even after, as she rubs his special cream all over his body, fingers gentle on his puckered skin. Once she's got his teeth brushed and has him in his pajamas, and he has not only Percy, but also Isabella, Mighty Mac and Duck lined up next to his pillow, Santana tucks Liam under his covers, and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Mama say you needa lay down."

"Mama says that, huh?" Santana laughs a little, but doesn't hesitate to lay right beside him, sort of stunned that at thirty-two years old, she's at a place in her life she'd _never_ thought she'd be, let alone this soon. "How's that?"

"Good." He nods emphatically. "Hi Doccer Santana."

"Hi, buddy. You know you can call me just _Santana_ if you want to."

"Hmm." Liam furrows his brow, thinking about it. "No, I call you _Doccer Santana,_ and you call me _sir._ "

"Okay, fair enough."

"When's Mama comin'?"

"Not 'til morning."

"You not gonna leave, right?"

"Nope, definitely not. I'm going to sleep in Mama's bed tonight, and I'll be here when you wake up."

"Then Mama?"

"Then Mama." Santana assures him.

"We cuddle in daytime."

"I bet you do. This is _really_ good cuddle weather."

"You stay too?" His little eyebrows raise hopefully, and Santana _seriously_ wishes she could say yes.

"I wish I could, but I've got to go to work."

"Too much workin'." Liam frowns, then releases a huge yawn.

"You're right about that. But in a few days, Mama and I will both be off, and then we'll do something fun, okay?"

"Okey. You read me a book now?"

"I definitely will."

Santana reads _My Truck Is Blue,_ then _Fancy Nancy,_ then four more books, one after the other. Liam is jittery, and it takes him a long time to fall asleep. Santana thinks, probably, that unless he was with Brittany's parents, he's never spent the night without her at _least_ close by in the hospital, and she's sympathetic. Even after he finally goes out, she stays with him for a long time, just watching him, watching the little person who means more to Brittany than anyone else in the world. It's something else, really, that she trusts her with him. It's something else, what she'd said to her two weeks ago. It's something else, thinking that…someday, maybe, _maybe_ she'll be something other than _Doccer Santana_ to this incredible, incredible little boy.


	36. Chapter 36

It doesn't take Santana long to find her routine with Liam. Every night, in the middle of the night, he comes into the bedroom looking for Brittany—he knows, she thinks, that she's not there, he rarely, rarely comes in when she's home—and each time, she lets him curl up with her, she strokes his head, and she promises him that Brittany will be home soon. She's not surprised, really, how much she loves the whole routine, but she _is_ surprised at the ease with which she adjusts to it.

Brittany's two weeks of night shifts go quickly. On the last night she puts Liam to bed, the night before he has an appointment with Liz, she can't believe it's done. She can't believe they _both_ will have the weekend off, and she can't believe that Brittany asked her to come with them to get their Christmas tree. Every day, she feels more like she has a real home, and every day, she's so damn grateful for one single power outage that changed her life.

In the morning, she takes a shower and gets dressed for work, before she wakes Liam up. He's wiggly and giddy when she does, excited, as always, to see Brittany, and she helps him get his arm into his sweatshirt before she makes him waffles for breakfast. It's this, more than anything, this morning routine alone with him, where she drinks her coffee, and pokes his fork into his cut up waffles, where she really feels domesticated, where she really feels like this is what she's going to be doing every day for the rest of her life. She loves this, she loves _him,_ and with the way she loves his Mama…well, she expects that maybe, maybe, she'll be someone other than _Doccer Santana_ to him in the near-ish future.

He chatters away in the car. Sometimes he's talking to her, sometimes he's talking to his trains. He always brings them with him, at least three. Always Percy, and more frequently than any others, Bill and Ben. Santana loves that, the way he knows every single one of the trains he owns, the way he lets her play with Harold the helicopter, and even lets him sit up on the dashboard whole she drives. She loves that he has something so simple that makes him so happy, and when they get to the hospital and she unbuckles his seatbelt, she kisses his forehead, her quiet little way of saying _I love you._

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Liam cheers, almost taking a tumble when his foot hits the seam in the doorway of Brittany's office. "We comed!"

"You came!" Brittany stands from her desk, eyes twinkling. "Well that's good news, what would I do without my Liam today?"

"Doccer Santana needa work."

"I know, lame, right?" Brittany picks him up and kisses him, stage whispering to him. "But we'll go see her after we see Dr. Liz, and maybe we'll brig her surprise lunch."

"Okey! Doccer Santana, I bring you a'prise!"

"You're gonna bring me a surprise, huh?" She beams at Brittany. "Okay then, I'll be waiting for it."

"You no eat lunch, okey?"

"Okay. I won't eat lunch."

Santana kisses Liam goodbye. Then she kisses Brittany, a slow, lingering kiss on the lips. It's one of the byproducts of the past few weeks of passing Liam between them. She's become far more comfortable expressing her relationship with Brittany at work. They're not the first couple in the hospital, and they certainly won't be the last. She's in it with Brittany for the long haul, and considering how many people within the walls of Columbia Pres that she considers _friends,_ to keep their relationship a secret seems like too much. So she kisses her outside her office door when Brittany drops Liam off. She kisses her in Brittany's office. She says _I love you_ by the nurse's station. She's not making a show of it, but she's behaving like anyone in love would.

She has three surgeries today. When she gets to her office, she pulls her files, and she refreshes herself—though she never needs the refresher, she has an impeccable memory, and she's read each patient file no less than a dozen times. She drinks her third cup of coffee, and she pulls her hair up off her face. Every morning, she gets dressed for work and does her hair, and every morning it ends up in a messy bun before ten-am.

"Hey Dr. Lopez." Reggie Salazar, the jovial father of her three-o'clock liver transplant knocks on her doorframe. They've been preparing his daughter a potential donor for months, and she knows them well. As far as fathers go, he's one of her favorites, and she looks up and smiles.

"Good morning, Mr. Salazar."

"Come on, I've told you a dozen times to call me Reggie."

"And I've told you more than that to call me Santana."

"We'll all right, _Santana._ I'm just checking in to see that you're all ready for the big day."

"I certainly am. I'm going to do my rounds in about twenty minutes and see Marina. I _was_ going to wait until lunchtime on the off-chance there was pizza…" She teases.

"You heal up my princess, you get all the pizza you want, for life!"

"I won't hold you to that, but I definitely wouldn't object to a slice tonight, after she's healing up."

"Don't you worry, you'll be taken care of."

Santana's morning surgery is a piece of cake, just a tonsillectomy, and she does a second set of rounds. When she goes into Marina Salazar's room to find her big Italian family gathered around her bedside. In the week and a half that she's been in the hospital, the week and a half of hell that bumped her _way_ up on the transplant list, Santana's gotten to know them well, always feeling like part of the family—right down to her _Nonna_ telling her she's too thin. It's a weird thing, she doesn't usually feel like this with patients. She usually feels like an intruder when she comes in to take vitals, and she prefers to have a nurse do it, but this family, she feels like love in the room. Marina tells her that she's going to be a doctor just like her when she grows up, her little sister gives her a crayon drawing she made, her aunt gives her a wrapped box of Godiva chocolates, and this is _before_ the surgery.

Her second surgery is a hernia repair. She's glad that she stacked two easy ones before a transplant, it keeps her sharp, but it doesn't exhaust her. Her nurses always tease her when she cranks _Hamilton_ in the operating room, but it's that kind of day, a good kind of day. _A beautiful day to save lives,_ she laughs at her own _Grey's Anatomy_ reference, but she's giddy like that. It's Friday, she's got great patience, and she's about to have the whole weekend off with her girlfriend and her great kid. She's _happy._ She's happy, and that's a feeling that doesn't feel so foreign to her anymore.

"Doccer Santana!" Liam cries out, running down the hall where her office is. His arm is uncasted, and Brittany has a smile on her face. "You in you scrubbies!"

"I am. You missed it, I was just wearing the Thomas scrub cap that you gave me."

"Where's it go?"

"It's in the laundry now, but it _definitely_ helped me." She lifts him up, kissing the top of his head and inspecting his arm, her finger trailing down the scar.

"I's my new star."

"I see that. Pretty neat, huh?"

"Mama say that too."

"Mama's smart." Santana carries him toward Brittany, who's holding a big paper bag.

"All good." She nods, answering Santana's unasked question. "He's starting with a new physical therapist on Monday. We brought sandwiches from Citarella."

"You're the best, like, seriously." Kissing the corner of Brittany's mouth, Santana gives a goofy smile. "I love you a _lot."_

"Me, or the sandwiches?"

"Both. Definitely both."

Liam sits in Santana's desk chair eating his lunch, while Santana sits with Brittany on the couch. All of serves to further improve her already good mood, especially when Brittany murmurs to her that Liz said that it looks like Liam will have a good range of motion in his arm. When they leave again, Santana runs down to the pit to help Rose and Adams will their backlog of Peds patients, and when she finally heads upstairs, it's a half hour before Marina Salazar's surgery. When she goes to check the board to find out which OR she's in, her name is blank, and she yanks her pager out of her pocket. There's four pages from Shelby that she somehow didn't hear, and without hesitating for a moment, she races down the hall to her office.

"Where the _hell_ have you been, Lopez?"

"Why the hell is my name off the goddamn board, Shelby?" She counters. "You can't bump my transplant for another surgery."

"You're not doing the transplant, Santana." Shelby lowers her voice, the sudden change in tone alarming Santana. "Sit down."

"What? She's going to _die_ if she doesn't get it. What happened to my liver?"

"The liver is here. I'm doing the transplant, that's why I've been paging you for the last two hours."

"Why are _you_ doing _my_ transplant?" Santana snaps. "I have a relationship with the patient."

"The patient's father requested another surgeon."

"What? I saw him twice _today!_ " Panic rises up in Santana's chest, and she really, really doesn't like the look on Shelby's face, the look like she's about to treat her with kid gloves. "What's going on, Shelby? Don't beat around the bush."

"Santana."

"Don't _Santana_ me." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I swear, I didn't do anything…I mean, I made a joke about a slice of pizza after surgery, but I wasn't being unprofessional, I—"

"You didn't do anything. It's his issue."

"Well his issue effects me, so what is it?"

"Okay." Shelby pinches the bridge of her nose, and Santana squirms in her seat. "He came to me a few hours ago, and he told me that he wants a surgeon for his daughter who reflects his values. According to him, you're not that surgeon."

"What? What values are you even talking about? How does he even know my values?" She stands back up and starts to pace. "Excuse my language, but what the _fuck,_ Shelby?"

"I'm on your side, a hundred percent, Santana. Not only does this hospital have a strict no discrimination policy, but I personally will fight for you every day. This isn't a disciplinary issue in any way, this is to protect _you_ just as much as anything else."

"Discrimination? What are you even talking about?"

"The Salazars religion isn't welcoming to homosexuality. He…you don't need to hear this part."

"Someone saw me with Brittany." She balls her fists at her sides. "And now, their revered doctor is just a dirty rotten sinner, huh?"

"Santana."

"Stop. Stop sounding like you feel _sorry_ for me."

"Dr. Lopez." Shelby stands up, her tone sharpening as Santana does. "Don't presume to know what I feel. If you think I'm not _livid_ that I have to hear such ignorance about one of my doctors and my _friend_ then you don't know me at all. Why do you think I spent two hours trying to get in touch with you? I wanted to tell you myself so you didn't have to go see on the board that your three o'clock was gone."

"Whatever. The whole thing is _bullshit._ Like I'm gonna infect their six year old with my lesbo germs. So much for that warm, accepting family I thought I knew. Are we done here?"

"Santana."

"Are we done here?" She repeats. "If it's not disciplinary, I can go, right?"

"Yeah." Shelby sighs. "You can go. You can take the rest of the afternoon too, if you want it."

"I don't have any surgeries, so I guess I will." Santana shakes her head and turn toward the door. "Do me a favor? Make sure you save her. I really cared about those people."

Santana goes back to her office. Incapacitated is the only word she can think of to describe how she's feeling. It's the only word to explain how crippling it is for her to actually let her guard down, in more way than one, and be painfully, painfully wrong about it. It's 2016. It's 2016, and somehow, in the most diverse city in the world, there are actually people who won't let her operate on their child for being a lesbian. Not only that, there are people who come off as good, warm people who feel this deep seated hatred. It's too much for her to handle, and she doesn't even bother to throw the clothes she'd worn to work into her bag before she walks out of the hospital.

She should go right to Brittany's. Rationally, Santana knows that. She knows that Brittany will calm her down, and keep her from boiling over. She knows that it's the best thing for her sanity. But she doesn't. She goes back to her apartment. The picture of her, Brittany, and Liam that sits on her bedside table should calm her down, but instead, it makes her more angry. It makes her _hate_ the man who refused to let her treat his child. It makes her hate him, because he doesn't know _anything_ about her, or the best thing that has ever happened to her. It makes her angry, because when it comes to her son, Brittany would _never_ judge anyone's personal life, if they were the one who had been treating him for months. It makes her angry, because love should come before hate, and sometimes, sometimes it doesn't.

Santana goes for a run. As a rule, she doesn't really work out. She's naturally thin, and being on her feet all day, running around the hospital, keeps her in shape. But it seems like maybe it'll work to get the anger out of her. It seems like it'll be the kind of thing that will help her regroup and enjoy her night with Brittany and Liam. It seems like it'll be the kind of thing that'll bring back the good day vibes of the early afternoon. It seems like it, but of course, it doesn't.

She's barely run twenty blocks along the park before Santana gets a cramp in her side. She didn't warm up, she didn't prepare at all, and obviously, her body just doesn't know how to handle it. She doubles over, pressing the heel of her hand into her side, and she takes deep breaths. It's that panicky feeling, exacerbated, and she curls her toes in her shoes, trying not to throw up from the twisting pain, trying to stand upright again and get herself home. She doesn't feel less angry, not on the slightest, but now she's managed to add insult to injury with this damn cramp.

When the cramping barely subsides, Santana makes the decision to take a cab. _Obviously,_ she's the worst at exercising, and it's not until she gets into the taxi that she realizes she doesn't have any money on her, she doesn't have her phone, she just left her apartment empty handed in an effort to escape her own feelings.

"Where you going, lady?" The driver asks her.

"I…uh…forgot my wallet."

"Well this ain't no charity service. No pay, no ride."

Briefly, Santana considers asking him if he'll let her run inside for money, but before the words come out of her mouth, she's out of the car again. She presses her hand into her side, and she whimpers in a dramatic fashion as she starts to walk. She has no idea what time it is, she has no idea of much of anything, except that she doesn't want to go home. She wants to go to Brittany's. She wants to drink hot chocolate with Liam, and she wants to rest her head on her girlfriend's chest. She wants to _feel_ that it's not her, that she's not the problem. It's Mr. Salazar, the coward who couldn't even tell her to her face that he didn't want her doing Marina's surgery. It's people _like_ him, who don't even try to understand. It's not her, it's not Brittany, not at _all._

The one thing Santana managed to bring with her are her keys, and besides a lingering prickle on her right side, her cramp has nearly subsided as she unlocks the front door to Brittany's house. She doesn't even make it all the way inside, before she sees Brittany, sitting on the bench in the entryway, tying her sneakers.

"Hey." Santana shrugs off her windbreaker, shivering for the first time since she left her house.

"Where have you _been?_ " Irritation tinges Brittany's voice. "I called you four times. You had me really worried."

"I went for a run. I forgot my phone."

"You went for a run?" She arches an eyebrow. "Since when do you run? And you couldn't have called me to tell me you'd be late?"

"Why are you trying to start a fight with me?" Santana snaps, fisting the hem of her shirt.

"Starting a fight with you? I didn't realize being concerned about your safety was _starting a fight._ What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm just having a really _shit_ afternoon, and the _last_ thing I need is for you to be mad at me."

"Hey." Brittany steps closer, her tone softening as she opens her arms for Santana. For a few seconds, Santana hesitates, wrestling with her own vulnerability. "Come here. What happened? Did your surgery not go well?"

"I didn't _do_ a surgery. That homophobic piece of shit fired me from his kid."

"The _pizza guy?_ The one who—" Brittany stops, and Santana is grateful for that.

"I don't even give a shit that he's an ignorant asshole. I give a shit because it's my career, and the fact that I have a really awesome girlfriend doesn't take away from my superior surgical skills. It was so _embarrassing_ when my name was off the board, and Shelby had to tell me why. And now what? I'm Dr. Lezpez, the dyke Peds surgeon at Columbia Pres? Other people don't let their kids be treated by me, because _obviously,_ fingers that have been inside another woman's pussy aren't healing hands? Might infect them with sins of the flesh through the scalpel. They leave my OR and bust out in boils or leprosy. God for-fucking-bid I have a personal life that's completely unrelated to my ability to perform surgery. You know what? May as well contact the Board, I'm unfit to be certified." Santana rants, heat flaming in her neck and face. Letting herself be held only because it's Brittany, not because she can handle how constricting it is not to pace and stomp. "Fucking _asshole._ And now you're mad at me because I messed up our dinner plans, and I probably upset Liam, all because of some piece of shit who didn't even have the _balls_ to confront me himself."

"I'm not mad at you, Santana. Not at all. I shouldn't have jumped down your throat like that when you walked in the door. I feel terrible that I made it worse when you were already upset."

"Oh no, I'm not upset, I'm _pissed._ God dammit. I'm trying not to bring this in here. I don't want Liam to—where is he?"

"He's having a play date at the Abrams'. I was just leaving to pick him up when you came in. Santana, what can I do? Do you want me to call Artie and ask if he can stay the night? Do you want to have some time here by yourself? Do you want to come with me, and we'll pick up something for dinner on the way home?"

"I—"

Santana doesn't know what she wants. Brittany is good, Brittany is so, _so_ good, giving her every possible option, but she really, truly has no idea what she wants right now. She wants the anger to stop boiling, that's pretty much all she knows. She hasn't felt an anger like this since her father, and maybe that's exactly what this is. He came off as the nicest guy in the world to everyone but her and her mother. He had everyone fooled, had everyone convinced that he had this happy, picture perfect family, but no one could ever convince her that he didn't _hate_ them. It's not even close to the same thing, but Reggie Salazar had her fooled like her own father had fooled everyone else, and something about that, it settles deep beneath her skin.

"Can you wait five minutes? If not, I'll just stay here, but I don't really feel like going out without showering. Work, and my short-lived run, and…city grime."

"Artie's in no rush to get rid of him, Santana. Do you want to be alone, or do you want company?"

"Company would be _really_ good."

In the bathroom, Santana peels off her sweaty clothes. It makes her feel more disgusting than she already did, and she can't believe that Brittany picks them up with no regard and tosses them into the hamper with everything else. Her breasts hurt a little from the unusually tight sports bra she'd had on, and she palms them to dull the sting, rolling her eyes at herself when her nipples harden unexpectedly. The spray of the shower feels good when she steps in, and the sensation of Brittany stepping in behind her and running her fingers through her mess of curls, lingering to massage the scalp, feels even better.

Santana doesn't object, when Brittany lathers a washcloth and washes her body, taking extra care to be gentle around her breasts. She knows, somehow, without Santana saying, when they're tender. Maybe it's the knowledge of a plastic surgeon, or maybe it's more, maybe it's something intuitive, something that comes from this intense connection she seems to have with Santana. Santana will never know, but she lets her head roll back, neck popping as she does, tension releasing as she leans back against Brittany.

Brittany takes her time washing Santana. Five minutes turns into ten, and ten turns into a half hour, but Brittany doesn't rush Santana out. She must have sent Artie a text, letting him know she'd be later, Santana thinks. She must have known, just like with her sore breasts, that _this_ is what Santana needed, that caressing and massaging and peppering barely there kisses along Santana's shoulder blade and clavicle is exactly what it would take to suck her tension away.

It doesn't take Santana by surprise when Brittany brings the washcloth between her legs. The rough texture of it makes her shudder, but Brittany's free hand holds her hip, Brittany's stance keeps her from slipping on the soapy shower floor. Even as Santana spreads her legs further, Brittany doesn't rush. Her motions mimic washing, but Santana knows damn well that it's more than that. Closing her eyes, Santana drops her head back on Brittany's shoulder, and the spray of water on her face, combined with the stimulation of her sex makes her gasp.

"Please, Britt. I need—"

Santana doesn't finish the sentence. She doesn't need to. The washcloth drops at her feet with a wet _thwack,_ and two fingertips press against her entrance. Panting, Santana nods, begging Brittany to be inside of her, begging for the sort of cathartic release Brittany is setting her up for. Her walls tighten as soon as she's filled, and the moan she releases echoes off the stone tiled walls.

"I love you, you're perfect." Brittany murmurs in her ear, lips never leaving her skin as they trail down to mark her neck.

Each time Brittany thrusts her fingers, the palm of her hand hits Santana's clit, and the sickening twists in her stomach are replaced with a cool of pleasure. She breathes deep, and she braces herself for her orgasm to hit hard and fast, but instead, it comes in slow waves. Instead, heat spreads from her groin, and her toes curl, grappling for something to hold as the waves course through her. Brittany doesn't let her go though. Brittany slips her fingers out, and brings them back to her clit, rubbing gentle circles there, drawing it out, making Santana's knees buckle, and a whine come from her throat.

The water goes cold as Brittany holds her, waiting for her to be ready to move. When the change in temperature proves too much, and Santana shivers, Brittany turns the water off, and before Santana knows it, she's wrapped up in a towel, Brittany's thumbs circling the pressure points in the back of her neck. It still gets her, that someone takes care of her like this, that someone can take all her snappishness, her angry ball of rage nature, her insecurities and her vulnerabilities, and just…wrap her up in a towel, make her feel loved, make her feel cherished, make her feel like she belongs.

"This is my favorite place in the world." Santana whispers, brushing wet strands of hair from Brittany's face.

"The shower?"

"Your house. I come here, and…everything feels easier and better."

"So then stay."

"What?" Her eyes widen, trying to gauge if Brittany means what it sounds like.

"Stay. Move in with me, with us. Because I want you to always be in a place that makes you feel like that, and I want you to always be with _me._ "


	37. Chapter 37

Santana has to process. She always does, but in this moment, she feels a particular urge to do so. It feels almost like a dream, Brittany's bathroom filled with steam from their shower, condensation pooling on the stone counter top. It feels almost like a dream, as she looks up, into Brittany's eyes, as she looks at her girlfriend, the woman who manages to look put together after a full day of surgery, standing before her, wet strands of hair plastered to her face, beads of water on her clavicle sliding down to be absorbed by the dark blue towel tucked above her breast. It feels like a dream, and more than anything, Santana doesn't want to wake up from it.

"What if you change your mind?" She whispers, voice cracking, more than she means it to.

"About you moving in with me?"

"About _me._ You have a kid, and…if I move in here, and you realize you don't want to be with me…"

"If I thought I was _ever_ not going to want to be with you, I wouldn't have you around Liam at all. I wouldn't trust you to take him overnight, I wouldn't want you to do our _family_ things with us. No matter what you think about yourself, Santana, I'm not changing my mind about you. I love you, I want to be with you, that's all."

"Sometimes I still don't get it. You're _you._ Dr. Brittany Pierce, world famous plastic surgeon, chick with her life totally together, and I'm just _me._ "

"Santana, you're thirty-two, you own a massive Manhattan apartment, you are well on your way to being a world famous surgeon yourself. I don't think it gets much more together than that."

"You know what I mean."

"I know what you _think_ about yourself. But as much as I respect your feelings, they're your truths, not mine."

"You'd really want that though? Me living here? Being in your space all the time? Having all my weird things I do?"

"You being in my space all the time is precisely the reason I _want_ you to move in. I was going to ask you at Christmas. I'm not asking you because I think I should, or because you're having a really crappy day. I'm asking you because I've been thinking about it for months. I've seen more and more every day that you're the person I want to spend my life with."

"I want to spend my life with you too." Santana looks down, then back up, shivering at the look in those blue eyes. She feels sensitive all over, inside and out, but that constant, that true north, or some other nonsense that romantics would call it, it steadies her. "I love you. More than I ever thought I could love another person. I love you, and the fact that you love me just totally blows my mind."

"You're special, Santana Lopez. You're so, so special."

"You make me feel that way."

"So you'll…"

"Yeah." She nods, biting her lip. "Yeah I'll…"

They get dressed. Santana pulls a pair of jeans from her drawer, and she borrows one of Brittany's old college sweatshirts. There's something about it that makes her feel good, feel _hers,_ and today, that feels even better than ever. She borrows a coat too, since she'd only had that running jacket on when she came, and Brittany slips her hand into Santana's back pocket as they walk to the car.

On the drive to Dr. Abrams, they're quiet. Santana is still turning the events of the day over in her head, but her anger has quieted. It doesn't mean she's over it, but it means she can put it aside. It means she can put Liam to bed with Brittany, that she can read his books in the silly voices he likes, that she can tuck his trains beneath the covers with him. It means that she can sit at the table with her girlfriend, eat a late dinner, that she can drink wine, and sneak kisses while they watch reruns of _Saturday Night Live_ on cable. It means that she can feel normal, because in the whole world, that's all she really wants to be.

"Hey." Dr. Abrams opens the door to his East Midtown apartment, wheeling himself back so they can step inside.

"Hey." Brittany smiles. "Thanks for keeping him a while longer."

"Anytime." He waggles his eyebrows, and Santana flushes right down to her toes. "I don't think we've officially met."

"Oh. Hi, Santana Lopez." She extends her hand, and he takes it.

"Peds, right? I went to med school with Shelby Corcoran. Artie, Artie Abrams."

As she always is, Santana is awkward around strangers, and she thinks that they can't get Liam and get out of there fast enough. He jumps into her arms when he comes running out from the playroom, and she holds him tight, feeling this _relief_ at holding his weight. She hopes he's okay with her moving in with them, she hopes that he's not turning the whole world upside down of a child she cares for so deeply, and God, she hopes she's good enough to be such a big part of his life.

Liam falls asleep in the car. Santana hadn't realized how late it was when they actually _got_ him, and she feels bad that she held everything up. While Brittany runs in to grab their Chinese, Santana stays in the car with him. She turns her head over her shoulder, and she watches him sleep. Percy is tucked under his chin, like he always is, and she shakes her head, smiling. She wonders what it feels like to be a mother. She wonders how _Brittany_ feels when she watches him like this. She wonders how big her heart must swell, if Santana's own swells this much without him belonging to her. She wonders, and she…she hopes, maybe, that someday she'll _know._

After Liam is tucked into his bed, they eat dinner. Santana's head spins with all the things ahead of them. Should she sell her apartment? Should she rent it out? Should she leave it vacant, just in case…in case Brittany is wrong about wanting to be with her forever? Does she just move on now? Or is there a waiting period she's supposed to respect after being asked? What does she do with all of her stuff? Does she tell people? _How_ does she tell people? Does she write it in her Christmas cards? Does she just send out a mass text message? An email? Does she have to call everyone individually? She should probably at _least_ tell her mom, and Kurt, and Mercedes…probably Shelby too, since she's her boss. Should she even _be_ here, or should she be at home packing? There's so much to consider, and it makes her head hurt.

They go to bed early. It's probably better that way, because if Santana stays up any longer, her brain might explode. She'll figure it out. She really has no choice _but_ to figure it out. She's moving in with Brittany, that's a good thing. That's the _best_ thing, and when all the headachey stuff is over, it will be so worth it.

"Wakey up! Wakey up!" Santana is roused from sleep by a tiny nose pressing against hers, and when she opens her eyes, there's Liam, right in her face.

"Li?" Brittany's voice calls out from somewhere outside of the bedroom, and Santana tries to get her bearings. "Liam! We were going to let Santana sleep, remember?"

"No, she 'wake now."

"Because you woke her up." Brittany laughs a little, coming into the bedroom, and mouthing a _sorry_ to Santana.

"No, she wakeyed up when she heared me. I no wakey her."

"That's the same thing, buddy." She scoops him up. "C'mon, let's let her get up on her own."

"You wanna wakey on you self?"

"I'm okay." Santana rasps, blinking her eyes to clear them, and reaching for her glasses. "What time is it."

"Tirteens!"

"Thirteen, huh?" She can't help but laugh, pushing herself into. "Must be a cold day in April then."

"I no know April."

"Sorry, Liam, I was making a silly joke. I'm getting up, I promise."

"Baby, do you want to go in your room and find your new boots?"

"For Cripsmas trees?"

"That's right, they're right by the door."

"I get Crispsmas tree boos! I be back." He runs from the room, and Santana runs her hand through the mess of hair that she did _nothing_ with after her shower last night.

"How long have you been up?"

"Two hours." Brittany laughs. "It was _definitely_ my mistake telling him that we were going to get the tree this morning."

"You coulda woke me up."

"I wanted to make coffee first, but then I realized we were out, so ran went to the store, and ended up doing a full food shop."

"At six in the morning?"

"Six-thirty." Brittany corrects.

"Do you _ever_ sleep?"

"Occasionally. But now I've got French toast and _lots_ of coffee for you."

"You didn't have to make me breakfast."

"I know." She leans down and kisses Santana slow and soft, making her _almost_ forget about morning breath. "I wanted to."

"I guess then I _have_ to get up." A lopsided smile spreads across her face, and she presses her hand to the side of Brittany's face. "I could get used to this."

"Good thing, isn't it?"

"Did you…uh…tell him?"

"I did." She nods. "He said you could share his room."

"That's it?"

"Things are easy with kids, Santana. I knew it wasn't going to be any kind of question. He loves you, he loves having you here, of _course_ he'd be excited about you living with us."

"Okay." Santana takes a breath. "Okay, good."

The questions from last night don't plague Santana as much while she eats breakfast. Liam climbs up on her lap and insists on "helping" her eat—mostly because he really, _really_ wants to go get his _Cripsmas tree_ —and she shares the whipped cream and strawberries Brittany put on top with him.

Santana expects that they'll go around the corner to the stall set up in front of the Duane Reade, put when Brittany starts walking to her car, she realizes that she couldn't even have imagined they'd drive to Long Island _just_ for a Christmas tree. They'd both worked through Thanksgiving, sharing a cafeteria turkey dinner in between surgeries, so it didn't seem like holidays were a huge thing for Brittany either. But she was wrong. She was _definitely_ wrong, she realizes,as she watches Brittany switch the dial of the radio to Star 99.9's twenty-four/seven Christmas station. She was wrong, she realizes, as Brittany belts out _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ on the Long Island Expressway and Liam bangs his fist on the side of his car seat, giggling. She was wrong, and as she joins in, crooning _I don't want a lot for Christmas, I won't even wish for snow_ she _knows_ that it's probably the best thing she's ever been wrong about.

It's only about twenty-five miles outside of the city, the place Brittany drives to, but Santana isn't sure what to expect. When she was young, her mother ordered a Christmas tree over the phone, and someone came to put it up for them. They had box upon box of fancy glass ornaments, but Santana was always afraid to touch them, always afraid that if she broke one, her father would raise his voice. That Christmas tree wasn't for her. What was hers was the ceramic tree her mother put beside her bed, the one that would cast a glow over her covers, and make her feel like maybe she was allowed to be _excited_ about Christmas, the tree that she still puts up in her office every year. Her mother tried, she really, truly did, and she could never take that much away from her, but with her father, Christmas wasn't this. Christmas wasn't giggling in the backseat of the car, like Liam has been for the whole drive. Christmas wasn't singing carols with the radio or putting out cookies for Santana. Christmas was posing in an itchy dress with her father's heavy hand on her shoulder for photos. Christmas was sitting quietly even with the presents under the tree, because her father had worked an overnight shift on Christmas Eve. Christmas was stuffy parties and her disapproving _abuelita._ Christmas, like almost every other thing in her life, wasn't really something for children.

"Are you okay?" Brittany slips her gloved fingers between Santana's, murmuring in her ear while Liam waddles up ahead of them. "You have a face."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Santana shakes her head. "Just…never did this before."

"What?"

"Went to get a Christmas tree."

"Oh." She doesn't question it, Brittany never does. She doesn't make Santana feel like a freak, she doesn't do that pitying voice that Santana has long learned to avoid being on the receiving end of. She just simply squeezes her hand harder, then leans in to press a kiss to her temple. "I'm glad you're getting your first one with us then."

"So am I."

"You're not working on Christmas Day, right?"

"I…um…no. Shelby gave me the day, she said I've worked every Christmas since my internship, and I kinda asked for it off this year. I mean…if you've got plans to do stuff with Liam and your parents, that's totally cool, I'll just go up to my mom's, or like…sleep or something."

"Santana." Brittany cups her cheek, the soft lambskin of her glove warm in the cold. "You're really cute."

"Uh…thanks?"

"Of _course_ I want to spend Christmas with you. I want to wake up with you on Christmas morning, and have you there when I wake up Liam to see that Santa came. I want to lounge on the couch with you while my mom _insists_ that I don't help her with the ham, because it's Christmas, and I work too much. I want you to invite your invite your mom for Christmas dinner. I want to drink too much eggnog with you, and kiss you under the mistletoe. I want to give you your gift after everyone goes to sleep, and I want to kiss you all night long. If that's something you want…"

"Okay, really though, Britt, why are you like this?"

"Just telling you this vision I've had of having you with me on a holiday that means a lot to me." She shrugs. "But if it's too much…"

"It's not. I want that too. I didn't want to invite myself, or intrude on your plans, or whatever."

"Don't worry, Dr. Lopez." Brittany smiles, kissing the corner of her mouth, one eye still on Liam. "You're in my plans all the time."

They pick out the tree. Well, Liam picks it out, mostly, but as far as Santana can see, Brittany isn't particular about it. She doesn't seem to care that it's proportionally challenged, or that the tree is missing branches. Liam loves it, and what makes _him_ happy is what's important to her. It stirs something inside of Santana, watching her the tree attendant their choice, watching Liam bounce on his toes and wiggle around with excitement that they're taking his tree home. Brittany is an _amazing_ mother, probably the most amazing one Santana has ever seen, and just to be in the presence of it is something so stunning.

They get home—or, back to Brittany's house, Santana isn't really sure she can call it home yet, not if she hasn't moved in—and Brittany puts the tree in the stand, while Liam, still sleeping from the car, is sprawled out on the couch. Santana doesn't really have any idea how to help, so she pours two glasses of wine, and she watches Brittany string the lights, covering each branch in flickering rainbow light. When she steps back, finally, it looks good, _really_ good. Maybe Santana is biased, maybe she really just has a negative perception of Christmas trees in general, but to her, it's the most beautiful tree she's ever seen, even without any decorations.

When Liam wakes up, they eat dinner, and then Brittany opens the boxes. Where Santana's childhood was full of all the things she couldn't touch, Liam's is nothing like that. The ornaments, save for a few, which Brittany hangs on the highest branches, are plastic, they're homemade, they're plush, even. It's a paradise for Liam, leaning his mostly healed arm on the side of the box, and rifling through with the other hand, squealing in delight as he finds something that interests him. Santana helps too. Brittany insists on it, and truly, it's hard for her to resist the fun they're having.

"Star, Mama?" Liam asks, rubbing his eyes a little, tired from the excitement of his day. "Star now?"

"We can do the star, Li." Brittany nods, pushing the one remaining box of ornaments behind the tree. "Are you getting sleepy?"

" _So_ sleepy." He nods.

"Okay, how about this? What if Santana lifts you up to put the star on top, and then we go up and start getting ready for bed?"

"I sleep here? Wif my tree?"

"Sorry buddy, you know the rules. Beds are for sleeping, right?"

"T'morrow?"

"Still the same rules tomorrow, my love." She shakes her head, leaning down to kiss him. "Let's get the star, and then I'll bring you upstairs."

"No tree in m'roon?"

"No tree in your room. I'm sorry Li, one tree per customer."

"Okey. But I do the star."

Carefully, Brittany takes a gorgeous crystal star out of its box. It's a remnant from another part of her life, Santana thinks, a part of her life where she didn't have ornaments made of styrofoam and cotton balls. The part of her life where she lived in a fancy Boston high rise, where she drank expensive martinis, and probably had the kind of cocktail parties in her house that most doctors have, maybe even like Santana's own _parents_. But she doesn't preserve the star carefully, like a wistful reminder of her past. No, she lets Liam touch it, his little fingerprints smudging on smooth crystal as he _oohs_ over it excitedly. She lets him pick it up, aided only by Santana's nervous hands. She lets him kiss it, because he's just so _excited,_ and she laughs, glad, Santana thinks, that it serves a better purpose than to be admired from afar by black tied guests, glad that it elicits such an enthusiastic reaction from the person she loves most in the world.

"Go ahead." Brittany mouths to Santana, when she looks over, unsure if she _really_ wants her to put the star atop her Christmas tree.

"Doccer Santana, c'mom!"

"Okay, Sir." She lifts him into her arms, then lets his hand guide the star up, up, until it's nestled in the top branches.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" He giggles. "Mama! Mama! I do'd it!"

"You did, Li." Brittany moves beside Santana, placing her hand on her lower back, and standing with them to admire. "It looks _perfect._ "

"I's beautyfill!"

Liam leans his head on Santana's shoulder, and she runs her fingers through his hair. He's tired, so tired, and Brittany smiles, watching her murmur into his ear that it's almost bedtime. It's become so _natural,_ the way Santana feels with Liam, but still, watching Brittany watch them gives her the chills.

"Do you want me to carry him up?" She asks, when his eyes begin to slip closed.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll be right up."

By the time they get to the top of the stairs, Liam is dead weight in Santana's arms. Without jostling him, she pulls back the covers on his bed and nestles him into his pillows. She's sure Brittany will bring Percy up for him, so she covers him with his blanket, and she kisses his forehead.

"Goodnight, Sir."

"Nigh'night Mama." He murmurs in his sleep, jarring Santana. He's asleep, she knows he's asleep. He thinks she's Brittany, but still, the word coming from his lips, directed at her, is a strange sort of sensation. It makes her stomach drop, and her finger tips numb. It's a _lot,_ and she has to shake her head quickly, she has to shake it off, or she might throw up from how nervous it makes her.

"Wow, he went out quick." Brittany walks in, making Santana jump. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah." She squeaks. "Totally."

Furrowing her brow, Brittany leans over Liam, setting Percy down on the pillow and kissing him three times. Santana slips out of the room. She just needs a second. She's being ridiculous, he's a _baby,_ he's _sleeping,_ but she needs to regroup for a second. She needs to just be normal about this, she spent too long working on _not_ being crazy about everything related to Brittany to suddenly have a freak out over _nothing._ She just accepted Brittany's offer to move in, her relationship is moving to a different level, having a meltdown over Brittany's sleeping kid mumbling _Mama_ is entirely unwarranted.

"You're really alright?" Brittany checks again, closing Liam's door, and holding the monitor in her hand. "You look like you saw a ghost in there."

"No, yeah. Totally good."

"You'd tell me if you weren't?"

"I'd tell you if I wasn't." Santana swallows, promising _herself_ that she's fine.

"Okay, good, I'm glad. Do you want to help me with the last box of ornaments?"

"There's _another_ one?"

"There is. I usually wait until after Liam goes to bed for this one." She shrugs a little. "I get kind of emotional, so I'd rather he not see me upset."

"Oh." With a nod, Santana reaches out to squeeze Brittany's hand. "Do you want me to let you do it alone? I mean, I can go home, or, like, stay up here or something."

"No." Brittany shakes her head. "I understand if you don't want to do it with me, but if you want to, I'd like the company."

Santana doesn't have to say anything else. She's not sure what she _would_ say, anyway. She just gives Brittany another nod, and she follows her back down the stairs. When Brittany pushes the last box out from behind the tree, she sees the neat letters printed across the top—definitely not Brittany's scrawling script— _CONNOLLY._ Carefully, Brittany runs her fingers over the letters, and she takes a deep breath, before opening the box.

"You probably think this is incredibly morbid." Brittany looks over at her. "Christmas was her favorite holiday. I worked a _lot,_ but she would decorate her place, then my parents, and _then_ go over and do mine too. I'd come home from work, and it looked like Santa had come. Mom kept a lot of her Christmas stuff, but I took these."

"I don't really think it's morbid. Honestly I never lost anyone close to me, so I don't know how I would act, but if Christmas was important to her, j think it's cool that you keep her part of it."

"I miss her a lot this time of year." She takes an ornament out of the house, a ceramic figurine of a pregnant woman holding her belly. "She'd have loved that he loved it so much."

"This is the first year he really _gets_ Christmas, right?"

Brittany purses her lips and nods, hanging the figure from a high branch, "I'm glad she got one year with him though. She had his first Christmas outfit picked out before she was even pregnant."

"He looked so cute." Santana accepts the framed photo ornament, looking at Liam's scrunched up baby nose.

"He cried the whole day." Brittany laughs. "It was the only time he ever had a diaper rash, and he was _miserable._ It was the first time I ever took off work on Christmas though, and you don't even know how grateful I am for that. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I'd missed it."

"Britt." Slowly, Santana rubs circles on her lower back. "I'm sorry."

"I'm okay." She shakes her head. "It's a lot easier not doing it alone. She would have really liked you."

"Your sister?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you're good for me. Because you're really sweet with Liam. Because you sent my mom flowers on her birthday. Because you're exactly the person she would have wanted me to end up with, and you would have been who she'd had picked for—" Brittany pauses, then shakes her head. "For me to be happy."

"I wish I'd had the chance."

"So do I. But Li is so much like her. She had this huge personality, and I can already see so much of her in him."

"I'm glad I get to see that, then."

"Me too. And I'm so incredibly glad you're here with me right now."

"I really have nowhere else I'd rather be." Santana tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and looks back down into the box. "And I'd really like hearing all the stories you have to tell about her."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, absolutely."


	38. Chapter 38

Christmas Eve, and the emergency room at Columbia Presbyterian hospital is a disaster. At 2:13pm, Santana's pager goes off, and when she races downstairs to the doors of the pit, she finds herself in a sea of doctors. Quickly, she scans the group for Brittany, but it's Mercedes who she finds first.

"What is it?" Santana snaps, shoving her arms into the trauma gown she's given.

"Five alarm fire on one-seventeen. They're sending us twenty-nine, St. Luke's is getting the rest."

"Twenty-nine." She repeats, twisting her hands, and searching the room again for Brittany. "Fuck."

"I know. And on Christmas—"

"Sorry." Catching a glimpse of Brittany, Santana cuts her off. "I'll be right back."

Wasting no time, Santana cuts across the room. Brittany is gowned up, and giving instructions to Hayward, Lynn, and Porter. Plastics, she realizes, will be the lead on this, and she eyes her girlfriend with concern. It's Christmas, when she's already entangled in thoughts of her sister, and Santana sucks in a breath.

"Hey." Brittany finishes her instructions, and turns to Santana. "I paged Corcoran at home, and she's on her way. We've got eight kids coming in, what staff do you have?"

"Britt—"

"I'm fine." She shakes her head, cutting Santana off. "We've got a mass trauma incident, and I don't have time to deal with anything else. What kind of staff do you have."

Internally cringing at the clinical—and authoritative—way Brittany speaks, Santana quickly stiffens her spine and looks her in the eye, "I'm the only attending on. I've got Adams and Rose, boy McCarthy, and Hart."

"I want you and Rose on criticals, put Adams in charge of managing the interns on the rest."

"On it." She nods quickly. "But are you—?"

"On my way to brief cardio." She steps back. "I'm the head of plastics, Dr. Lopez, I've got work to do, and so do you."

Swallowing hard, Santana takes a step back. This isn't Brittany, her girlfriend. It's not Brittany who woke her up extra early this morning by kissing up the inside of her thighs. It's not Brittany, who tucks her son into bed and murmurs how she loves him against his forehead. It's Dr. Pierce, the head of plastic and reconstructive surgery. It's Dr. Pierce, who is in charge of running an entire mass trauma operation. It's Dr. Pierce, who will always, always put her personal qualms aside if it means saving a life. It's Dr. Pierce, and though Santana feels a little slighted by her girlfriend, she needs to check herself.

"Adams! Rose!" Santana barks, and they snap immediately to attention. "Eight peds coming in. We're gonna sort them. Adams, you're taking McCarthy and Hart and dealing with non-critical. Rose, you're with me on critical. Dr. Corcoran is on her way, but until then, we need to keep this under control."

The ambulances start to arrive, and Santana's team follows her direction. Their first two patients are minor burns, and Rose, always thinking on her feet, cordons off a section of the pit for their own makeshift pediatric burn unit, and Santana waits for things to get bad.

Until now, Santana has never really processed the smell of burnt human flesh, but suddenly, it's pervasive, and she fights the urge to vomit. She needs to separate, she knows she perfectly _capable_ of separating, but all she can see in the face of her first critical patient, skin singed and peeling, an almost inhuman shriek coming from her throat, is Liam.

"Five year old female." The medic presents. "Firefighters pulled her out of the second floor apartment where the fire started. Lopez, the burns are in excess of fifty-percent of her body."

Bile rises in the back of her throat. She's seen necrosis. She's seen the effects of total organ failure. She's seen dying and _death,_ more than she wishes, but this, it's something else. This, it's a particular kind of awful, the stuff of absolute nightmares.

"Parents?"

"Dad's critical, mom is—"

"Are you the doctor?" A tall woman with coal black hair runs, completely shaken, to Santana. Her arms are ambulance wrapped, and there's a sleeping infant in her arms. "We couldn't find her! It all happened so fast, and…my husband told me to take the baby out."

"I'm the doctor, ma'am." Santana shakes herself out of her trance as Rose attempts to put a fluid IV in the child.

"Please. Please save her. I…just please."

It's a lot. This isn't Santana's first mass trauma incident, but it's still a lot. They stabilize six out of the eight kids, and they lose one, Santana throwing her scrub cap on the floor when he dies before they can even get him into surgery. But this little girl hangs on. This little girl, she screams and screams, until she's sedated—Santana swears she'll hear those screams until the day she does—and finally, St. James comes from plastics to scrub in for surgery with them and for now, remove the remainder of the charred skin from her body.

She's still alive, when they wrap her in dry gauze, nearly from head to toe, waiting, hoping, that she'll still be here for skin grafts when it's time. She's still alive, when they get her into a bed, and her mother, sedated, sobs at her bedside. She's still alive, when Santana, physically and emotionally exhausted, leaves her in the care of the shift nurses, finally, and realizes that she can't even remember that little girl's name.

"Go home, Rose." Santana tells her, looking down at her filthy scrubs. "Go home."

"Okay." She squeaks, probably unsure how to handle Santana when she's like this. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Lopez."

"Yeah." Santana can't help but scoff. "Merry Christmas."

It's 2:31 in the morning, when Santana starts walking back to her office. The flickering of Christmas lights on her floor proves to be too much for Santana, and she kicks the front of the nurses' station, cursing at the pain it causes in her foot. She was supposed to leave work nine hours ago, she's deliriously tired, and emotionally, she feels incapable of processing the horrific things she saw tonight.

When she finally makes it to her office, she stops short. She's taken by surprise when she sees Brittany there, legs splayed out in front of her, her scrubs similarly covered in soot and ash and who knows what else, eyes closed, and holding a sleeping Liam tight in her arms. As Santana gets closer, Brittany's eyes open, and she watches as she sucks in as much air as she can manage.

"I didn't realize you were done." Santana murmurs.

"You had the last patient in transit. I've done all I can do tonight."

"Are you—?"

"No." Brittany shakes her head, her doctor bravado completely shattered. "Not really."

"What can I do?"

"Take me home. Please. I just want to shower this off of me, get Liam's gifts under the tree, and go to bed."

"Okay." Santana doesn't try to change her mind, doesn't try to tell her that maybe Liam's gifts can wait to go under the tree until she gets a little sleep. She doesn't argue anything that she wants. She can't. She _won't._

Wordlessly, Brittany hands Santana the car keys. They're both bleary eyed as they walk to the garage, but Santana sharpens up as she gets behind the wheel. She has Liam, she has Brittany, she needs to get them home safely. Before she even has the car in gear, Brittany's hand finds hers. It grasps her tightly, everything that needs to be said between them evident in a single touch. Santana offers a weak smile, and she drives, more Christmas lights passing in a blur.

They arrive back at Brittany's house, and she lifts Liam from his car seat. Santana watches, as she breathes him in, she watches as she cradles his head against her shoulder, the pad of her thumb caressing the scarred skin of his face. She watches as she kisses his tumbled mess of dark hair, carrying him through the door Santana holds open.

"Cookies for San'na." Liam mumbles in sleep. "Cookies."

"Okay, my love." Santana hears Brittany's voice crack, remembering, she's sure, all the things they'd promised Liam they'd do, before they worked an extra nine hours. "I'll make sure I put them out for him."

"Okey." He nuzzles her neck, and promptly starts snoring again.

Brittany puts Liam to bed. Santana doesn't go in with her. Though she usually does, she can sense that Brittany needs to be alone with him right now, and she'll respect that need. Instead, Santana rips of her filthy scrubs and throws them in the hamper in the bathroom, turning on the water, hot as it goes, and stepping under the spray, letting it wash away the stench of burn cream, ash, and God knows what else.

It isn't long before the shower door opens, and Brittany climbs in, naked and shaky. Santana, not used to this, takes a big breath, before she turns and wraps her arms around her girlfriend. For her part, Brittany doesn't cry, she just holds Santana tightly. She lets _herself_ be held, and they stand there for a long while, hot water washing over them, cleansing them of the horrors of their evening. It turned Christmas hours ago, but neither of them feel very much like it. It turned Christmas, and Santana rubs her thumb behind Brittany's ear, holding her, soothing her, loving her, because that's all she thinks she can do.

"You can go to bed, if you want." Brittany murmurs when she steps out, drying herself quickly and pulling on sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt from the Boston Marathon. "I'm sure your exhausted, and you don't have to stay up with me to do the gifts."

"I'd rather be with you." She shrugs. "I've never been Santana Claus before."

"I really love you." Brittany cracks a at that. "And I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. You were doing your job."

"I know, but you were concerned about me."

"And you did what you had to do to get through it, personally and professionally. You amaze me, Brittany Pierce."

"I'm just doing my job. As a doctor, as a mother…"

"That doesn't make you any less amazing." Santana pulls her tank top over her head, biting back a wince at how tender her chest feels after such a long day. "It probably makes you _more_ amazing. And…I really love you too."

Together, they carry gifts from Brittany's office closet down the stairs, creeping past Liam's room. It may not have felt like Christmas when they came home, but somehow, Brittany manages to turn it on. Somehow, when Brittany puts the tree lights up, so they can work beneath them, it's like the spirit was just re-activated. The horrors of the evening are still in Santana's mind, churning around in there, but for just a moment, it's her and Brittany. For just a moment, they're making magic for their—for Brittany's son.

"I have gifts too." Santana takes a bite of the cookie Brittany offers to her— _to play Santana Claus, she reminds her—and looks down a little. "I…uh, I mean, I could give them to him after Santa gifts, or…they could be Santa gifts too. Whatever you wanna do."_

"You bought them, honey, it's whatever _you_ want to do." Cocking her head to the side, Brittany gives her that adoring look.

"Well…he's your kid, so I don't want to make decisions like that."

"Consider for a second that he wasn't." Brittany starts, and Santana feels her heart, right in her throat. "If _you_ were making the decisions for Liam, what would you choose?"

"Britt, I—"

"It's not a trick question, I swear. I just want to know."

"I—" Santana thinks for a moment. She thinks of Liam. She thinks of herself, of how she fits into this family. She just _thinks,_ and given how tired she is, it makes her head hurt. "I'd rather he had them from Santa. I got him gifts because I wanted him to have the things I picked, not because I wanted credit or anything."

"Alright then, Santana Claus." Brittany kisses the cookie crumbs from the corner of her mouth, stopping to look into her eyes for an instant. "Santa it is."

Going back upstairs, Santana carries the whole duffle bag she'd left in the closet a week ago. Slowly, she's been moving things into the house, so the bag was unassuming, even filled with wrapped boxes of LEGOs, Plah-Doh, new trains, and even a tiny doctor's coat, embroidered with _Dr. Pierce,_ because she'd seen it online and absolutely couldn't resist it. Brittany smiles at her as she takes the gifts out, she smiles at her when she puts them under the tree, mixing them in with all of the gifts Brittany had bought him. She smiles, even as her lashes flutter with exhaustion. She smiles, and what Santana feels for her, she doesn't even think she can describe.

They go to bed. Liam's gifts are all nestled beneath the tree, and there's a half-drank glass of milk and half-eaten cookies on the table. Brittany has the tree lights turned off, but the ones she'd hung on the outside of the house burn brightly. It bathes the bedroom in an ethereal sort of light, and when Santana crawls into bed beside Brittany, and pulls her into her arms, that's the glow that's cast upon her. She looks like an angel, Santana thinks, white light in golden hair. She looks like an angel, and sometimes, especially given the circumstances of her day, and how she'd truly done what was best for every single person in that hospital, Santana thinks that maybe she actually _is._

It seems like they've barely fallen asleep, when the sound of Liam's voice comes over the baby monitor on Brittany's side of the bed. _Mashing froo then snow!_ he sings out, and while the sound gets smaller on the monitor, it gets louder outside the bedroom door. There's the thud of his little body against the door, and Brittany drags herself to her feet, mumbling for Santana to stay in bed.

"Mama! Mama! I waked up!

"I see that, Li." Brittany rasps, lifting him into her arms. "Good morning, my love."

"Sanna come?"

"It's a little early for Santa. We're going to get in my bed with Santana for a little while, okay? And then we'll go downstairs."

"Doccer Santana not Sanna."

"I know that." She laughs a little. "But Santana's still sleeping, and we want to go look and see what Santa brought with her, right?"

"Doccer Santana! Doccer Santana! Wake up!"

"Shhh, baby, it's very early. We're just going to have a little more of a rest, and then I promise, we'll go downstairs before Grandma and Grandpa and Maribel come, okay?" She sets him down on the bed, and he crawls up, cuddling into Santana.

"Okey, I be quiet!" He shouts in Santana's ear, and she burrows into her pillow to keep from laughing. "Doccer Santana, you seepin'?"

"Little bit, Sir." She peeks one eye up, and his face is nearly pressed to hers.

"I not seepin'."

"I see that."

"I needsa find my Tub-a-ton."

"He's right here, Li." Brittany pats the bed, and he hops up. She yawns wide, but Santana knows that she's well aware they're not going back to sleep.

"Hi, Tub-a-Ton. I's Cripsmas."

" _We can get up."_ Santana mouths to Brittany. _"If you want to…"_

" _Yeah? We only slept for like four hours."_

Santana waves off that concern. She's _definitely_ gotten by on far less than four hours of sleep, and it Christmas, after all. It's Christmas, and there's an excited little boy in bed with her. It's Christmas, and for the very first time in her life, that actually _means_ something to her. She could have slept four minutes, and would have still wanted to get up, would have still wanted to see the grin on Liam's face grow bigger and bigger. This is one of those moments, those _never knew she wanted_ moments, and she's going to take every bit of it in.

"Okay, Li, Santana says it's time for us to get up, and that I'm not allowed to be a lazy ones anymore."

"I tickle you lazy bone!" Liam giggles, diving forward and tickling Brittany's ribs. "Wake up wake up you lazy bone!"

"I think maybe you need some help, Sir." Santana winks at Brittany, and she tickles her other side. Brittany giggles, and Santana feels this urge to kiss her, just a quick peck, but a kiss, nonetheless.

"Mercy! Mercy!" She rolls over the side of the bed dramatically. "I'm up! I'm up! And _now_ who's the lazy bones?"

"No me! No me!"

"Not me either!" Santana follows Brittany and Liam's lead, rolling over the side of the bed. "Looks like it's Lord Tubbington."

"I get you, Tub-a-Ton." Liam tries to lift him with one arm, his bad arm still not really of much use to him, despite the fact that physically, it's completely in fact.

"I'll help." Brittany scoops him up, always making Santana laugh, the way she'll cradle him like a baby. "You don't want to miss it, do you, Lord Tubbington?"

"Maybe Sanna bring you cheese. I bring you cheese if I don't."

"That's pretty nice of you." Santana ruffles his hair. "Would you bring _me_ cheese?"

"No, you no like cheese. I bring you wontons."

"I—" She shakes her head laughing, in absolute awe, the things this child notices about her. In absolute _awe_ that she's such a big part of his life that he knows what she likes it doesn't like. It's dumb, probably, and also a little unnecessarily intense, but still…it's a _thing_ for her, a big one, particularly after that thing he accidentally said, that she decided she didn't need to tell Brittany about, because _that_ a thing at all…maybe. "I'd love wontons. But maybe I'll settle for some special French toast, and some coffee this morning. What do you think?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! You make it?"

"If Mama says yes, I'd _love_ to make you both Christmas breakfast."

"Mama say yes! Mama say yes!"

"Hmmm." Brittany pretends to think, though her eyes sparkle when she looks at Santana. "I think Mama _definitely_ says yes."

They go downstairs and right into the kitchen. Liam wiggles in his seat, trying to catch a glimpse of the Christmas tree in the other room, and Brittany pours a steaming cup of coffee for Santana, and then for himself. Santana feels Brittany's eyes on her back as she cooks, she feels her _smile,_ and she thinks, she thinks so much, that maybe Brittany feels how right this is too. Maybe Brittany feels like this is how it always should have been, that there was never a universe that should have existed where they weren't having Christmas breakfast together, a wiggly little boy between them.

Once breakfast is done, and Brittany wipes syrup and sugar from his little fingers and face, he tears into the living room, gasping when he sees just what Santa has left for him. It's a sight that Santana thinks will be burned into her memory forever—the kind of memories she needs, after last night had burned too many more that she wished she never had in there. It's probably the most beautiful sight in the world, the sight of a child seeing _magic_ for the first time, and she doesn't even bother to take a picture, she doesn't even bother trying to capture something that simply cannot be.

"Sanna camed! Sanna camed! Mama! Doccer Santana! Sanna camed! He bringin' me presents!"

"He brought you a _lot_ of presents." Brittany chokes out, more in awe, Santana thinks, then even _she_ can imagine. "I knew you were the best boy."

"I bee'd brave at the hopsital and I only yell sometimes! I no naughty engine, I a useful engine!"

"You're a _very_ useful engine, love." She sits down on the floor cross legged and watches Liam spin in circles. Santana, figuring she wants the same perspective, sits beside her, and Brittany reaches over and squeezes her hand.

"I open all this presents now." Liam plops down right on Santana's lap. "You help me?"

"I'd love to help you, Sir."

So she does. Santana holds the boxes for Liam so he can get the paper off with his left hand. She helps him undo tape and plastic and twisty ties. She feels him vibrate with excitement, she hears him whoop with joy. By the time he's done, there's paper and ribbon and toys everywhere, and Brittany sits back with her camera, smiling at them like she won the lottery. There's a knock on the door, and Liam leaps to his feet, nearly tripping, before Brittany catches him.

"Gramma and Grampa! Gramma and Grampa!"

"It might be." Brittany nods, looking down at her pajamas. "Or it might be Maribel, and Santana's mama will see what we look like when we're not dressed."

"I show Maribel my p-jamas!"

While Brittany helps Liam, clad in his pajamas and doctor coat, get the door, Santana gathers up the discarded wrapping. She stacks his things up neatly beneath the tree. The hour of excitement and disarray was _wonderful,_ but she can't help her base instinct to clean up and make the room presentable for company. The fact that they're still in their pajamas is enough of a deviation from her norm—as a child, she was all dressed in velvet and white tights, her hair pulled and poked and pinned, before she could even _look_ at the tree—so she'll straighten up a little, at the very least.

" _Mija."_

Maribel enters the room, just as Santana is shoving the last of the wrapping into a big black garbage bag. Santana can smell her perfume, still Caleche, _always_ Caleche, and there's not a wrinkle in her skirt or blouse, even after driving all the way from Westchester. It amazes Santana, still, how the most classy woman she's ever seen managed to give birth to her, who somehow wrinkles her _scrubs_ walking from her office to the operating room, to her, who is prone to angry fits and expresses too much emotion. Even in the midst of her _divorce_ Maribel Lopez was pure class, and thought it something she thinks she should probably envy, Santana _doesn't._ She loves her mother, that's for certain, but she doesn't want to _be_ her.

"Morning, Ma." She ties the bag and sets it down, the goes to hug her mother. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too. This really is such a lovely place. Have you finished moving in yet?"

"Doccer Santana!" Liam runs into the room, a box tucked under his arm. "I needs help! I got anover one!"

" _Another_ one?" She scoops him up with one arm, laughing. "Liam, _where_ are we gonna put all these presents?"

"Mary-bell gaved me this! We needa keep it."

"And Maribel gave _us_ this." Brittany comes in, bottle of expensive champagne and two crystal glasses in hand. "We're saving it for the first night you live here-live here."

"As opposed to just _regular_ live here." Santana gives a playful roll of her eyes. "Thanks Ma, you didn't have to get us a gift."

Maribel waves Santana off, watching Liam squirm uncomfortably in her arms, "I think someone's ready to open."

"Yes! Okey! I ready, Mary-bell!"

"Here, buddy, why don't we let my mom help? Seems only fair, since she brought you the gift, right?"

"Yes! She here, not like Sanna."

Maribel finds a chair to sit in, and much like he'd done to Santana an hour and a half earlier, Liam sits down on Maribel's lap. She's gentle with him, _so_ gentle, and Santana feels pang in her chest. It's not a _what could have been_ pang, as she would have expected, given how different her mother's interaction with her girlfriend's son is than what it had been with her, but one of what might still be. In spite of herself, Santana's eyes drift upward to the Christmas tree. She doesn't mean to, but her eyes catch sight of that figurine Brittany had hung toward the top, the woman with a swollen belly. She glows in the tree lights, and Santana sucks in a breath.

"Hey." Brittany wraps her arms around Santana's waist from behind, making her jump a little as she shakes off her completely _insane_ thoughts. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

"Little bit. Lack of sleep, I guess…"

"I know." She hums into her ear. "I could honestly go up to bed and sleep until tomorrow."

"I was thinking about starting another pot of coffee in a few minutes…or, another pot of coffee _every_ few minutes until bedtime."

"Is it wrong that I'm considering letting my son go full free for all on the sugar so he crashes early?"

"As a pediatric medical professional, I'd say uh, yeah. But as the other exhausted adult in this house, I say get me the Pixie Stix."

"I'm sure my father will have them in his pocket." Brittany snorts, and Santana tilts her head up to look in her eyes. "Hey."

"Hi."

"You okay this morning?"

"I am." She nods, pressing her chin against the top of Santana's head. "I'm usually so good at separating work from my personal life, but last night after I got Li, I just kind of snapped."

"For good reason. None of us were prepared for that."

"Except that I _was._ " Brittany shakes her head. "I've been on both sides of it. But I'm okay now. You're okay, Liam's okay."

"We're okay." Santana repeats.

"We're okay, and it's Christmas. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas morning than having my two favorite people in bed with me. I don't want to wake up without you another day."

"Brittany." Her voice is barely a whisper, and she swallows hard at the sincerity in her voice.

"I want—"

"Mama! Mama, Mama, Mama!" Liam's excited shouts break them from their moment, and they turn to him, standing in a Percy bathrobe, layered over his doctor coat, grasping two new engines in his hand. "Mary-bell buyed me this!"

"Well it's a good thing you stayed in your PJs then, isn't it? Now you have a bathrobe!"

"No. This is a coat." He crosses his arms over his chest, and looks at Brittany very authoritatively.

"It's a bathrobe, my love. Like I have, and like Santana has."

"No." He repeats, looking at Maribel for confirmation. "This is a coat."

"It's…" Santana watches her mother as he squeezes Liam's weak right hand. Gentle, again, so gentle. "It's more like an inside coat, _niño._ A coat for you pajamas."

"I wear it in the hopsital? For sleepin' time?"

"I…" She looks to Brittany for approval, and she nods. "That sounds like a _very_ good place to wear it. Just not outside. You wouldn't want Percy getting all dirty."

"No! He a clean engine!"

It continues to amaze Santana, the way her mother is with Liam. It amazes her too, the way she interacts with Whitney and Pierce, when they arrive. It actually allows her to relax, to sink back onto the couch with Brittany, to let Liam snuggle between them. It allows her, truly, to feel like all of the pieces of her life are coming together, and though she's loved her mother for her whole life, there's something new today, some grownup sort of respect for her, some sense of gratitude that she can't put into words.

After dinner, and cleaning up, everyone leaves. The Pierces go back to their hotel for the night, and Maribel goes back to Westchester. It makes Santana a little sad, thinking of her mother alone on Christmas night, but Maribel waves off her concerns, telling her she's going right to bed anyway. It makes Santana a little sad, because her father is a terrible human being, and her mother deserved better than the years of her life she put into him and their marriage. Her mother deserved better than being someone's puppet, and being forced to compromise herself for an insecure and emotionally abusive man. Her mother deserved more than she got, and so did Santana. They deserved _this_ relationship, the one that they've spent the last few years cultivating. They deserved the chance to feel like they were worth something, and they deserved it thirty years ago, not just _now._

But Santana won't be bitter. She's learned so much from Brittany about how to let go of the past. She's learned that all she can do is live each moment she has, and live it without regret. So she goes upstairs with her girlfriend and Liam. She takes off the dress and pantyhose that she'd put on for dinner. She washes the makeup from her face, and she changes into a clean set of pajamas. She brushes her teeth, and when she comes out of the bathroom, Liam is passed out like a starfish in the center of Brittany's bed.

"Well, _someone_ was tired." She quips, tying up her hair and taking a pair of socks from the top drawer.

"I think at least two someones." Brittany stifles a yawn, which, in turn, passes to Santana, who can't hold it in. "Or three."

"Definitely three."

"Do you mind if he sleeps with us tonight?"

Santana shakes her head. There are so many things she considers saying; _I never mind that,_ or _I really like waking up with both of you in the morning_ or _please don't ever ask me that again, I feel as comfortable with your son in my bed than without,_ but she doesn't say any of them. She just shakes her head. That's enough, she thinks. That's enough for Brittany to understand.

Santana watches as Brittany shifts Liam so he's not taking up the _entire_ bed. She smiles at the way he curls his knees into his chest and murmurs about his "coats" in his sleep. She smiles at Brittany kissing his dark hair. She smiles, and she realized that maybe she's smiled more today than she's ever smiled in her life. Last night was rough, it was _horrific,_ but the gratitude she feels today, for her mother, for her girlfriend, for the little boy she gets to love, it's a happiness like she's never felt.

She crawls into bed beside Brittany and Liam, and she props her head up on her hand. Brittany looks at her, that way she does, and she turns to the nightstand beside her bed. She opens the drawer, and she takes out a box. For a brief instant, Santana loses her breath. For a brief instant, she thinks…until her brain processes the shape of the box, until she realizes that it's not what she thought—hoped? No, that can't be. She's not ready for that. She couldn't possibly be hoping for something like that. Not any more than she could possibly be imagining that a dark haired Christmas tree ornament could be _her._

"I know we said no gifts—" Brittany starts.

"Brittany."

"Wait, hear me out. We said no gifts, I know, I really do, but you've been giving me a gift every single day—"

"No, Britt, seriously."

"No, Santana, _I'm_ serious. Just think of it not as a gift from me—"

"As you hold a black velvet box in your hand?"

"It's not a Christmas gift."

"Well it's Christmas, and it's a gift, and you're giving it to me. It's pretty much impossible for me to see it as anything but that."

"Would you rather I wait until tomorrow?"

"I didn't get you anything…" Santana whispers, embarrassed.

"But you did. You gave me _this._ You gave me Christmas where I didn't feel so unbearably sad. You gave me yourself, as a rock. Even last night, when I was in full work-mode and keeping it together, it was _you._ You're so much more special than you know. You're so much more _important_ than you know, and I wanted to remind you of that, every single day."

"I'm just _me._ "

"I've told you before, you being you is all that I want. You being you is everything that I need. It's not a ring." Brittany shakes her head, holding up the box, and Santana refrains from saying that she's already figured that out. Mostly, because she feels a lump in her throat, and she probably forgot how to use English words, but also, because she doesn't want Brittany to stop talking. Not now, not ever. "It's not a ring. It's not that I didn't think about it thought, _trust me,_ I just didn't want to freak you out. But a promise…it's a promise that I'm going to love you infinitely. It's a promise that I _will_ buy you one, but not on Christmas, and not until you tell me that it's something that you _want._ "

 _I do._ Santana's mind screams. _It's crazy and irrational and probably way too soon, but if there was a ring in that box, I'd say yes in a second._

"I love you. I've loved before, but never like this, Santana. Never in this way that makes me see the rest of eternity. I've never loved anyone the way that I loved you, and I just want you to know that."

"I do." Santana gasps for air, taking the box with shaking hands, and opening it to reveal a tiny gold symbol. A twisted reminder of that _infinity_ Brittany speaks of, a reminder that will lay at the base of her throat, and tell her that she is loved. "Britt."

"Santana." Brittany reaches over, placing her hand on top of Santana's.

"I love you like that too." She breathes, looking into Brittany's eyes, looking down at the sleeping child between them. "I didn't get—"

"I don't want anything. Not anything but this, knowing that you'll always be mine."


	39. Chapter 39

Just before the New Year comes, Santana hires movers to bring the rest of her things over to Brittany's—no, _their_ house, Santana has to remind herself. She doesn't want to wait any longer. Everything has been following this natural progression, this _amazing_ natural progression, if she's being honest, and she doesn't feel any sort of need to prolong the moving process.

Considering how much time Santana had spent at the house, between hanging out with Brittany, and taking Liam overnight, it doesn't feel like much of an adjustment when she moves in. She doesn't own a lot of _stuff,_ and since she'd made the decision to use her old apartment as a furnished rental property, she doesn't even worry about fitting in much of the furniture she'd paid the designer to pick out for her. She moves in easily, her things fitting into drawers and closets, the few photographs she has mixed on shelves and walls with Brittany's. She moves in easily, and it feels like maybe, maybe this is the place that she always should have been.

For the first time since Dr. Brittany Pierce arrived at the hospital over a year ago, Santana actually finds herself working with her almost every day. Though the reasons for that are obviously not something Santana would choose, she appreciates having her girlfriend close by when she's running down the list of surgeries Priya Salikram will need with her mother. She feels for the woman, her daughter and her husband both in grave condition, even two weeks after the fire that destroyed both their home, and their lives as they knew it, but it's a small blessing, having a plastic surgeon as Brittany on both cases.

Priya's skin-grafting begins a week and a half after Christmas. In the ten days between the fire and the first surgery, Santana has spent hours upon hours in the lab with Brittany, watching as she practices the procedure, watching as she tests possible matches for the small child. There's a dedication of Brittany's face, one that transcends that of just a surgeon. It's a dedication that only comes from a mother who knows the personal stakes of this operation, it's a dedication that only comes from a mother who has once feared for the life of her own child, stuck in the same situation.

The surgery goes well. Though Santana is officially the lead pediatric surgeon on the case, Shelby knows as well as she does that she's more of an assistant, that _no one_ in their department could do what Brittany does. It's six hours long, but the care Brittany takes with this little girl's face is absolutely outstanding. She won't look like she did before, that much they _all_ know is true, but she'll have the best skin-grafts possible, she'll have a minimal chance of excruciating rejection, because Brittany knows _exactly_ what she's doing.

"Do you mind picking up Liam tonight?" Brittany asks Santana, as they share a four-o'clock cup of coffee in her office. "There's a five-thirty opening on the board, and I pushed this rhinoplasty off five days…"

"Yeah." Santana stiffens a little at the mention of the cosmetic surgery. She knows Brittany is possibly the greatest humanitarian in the hospital, she knows _why_ Brittany does elective surgeries, but still, it's the people who think they _need_ it, the people like _her_ who get beneath her skin. "Do you want me to save you dinner?"

"Hey." Brittany cocks her head to the side. "It still bugs you, doesn't it?"

"It does and it doesn't." Santana shrugs. "I'd rather they go to you than someone who might fuck it up."

"It's hard for me too, on days like today. It's hard when I spent my morning on…on a child who will _never_ look the way the world thinks is perfect again. On someone like Liam."

"I know why you do it, Britt. I know that you _have_ to. But I don't know _how._ "

"Because not doing it won't change anything for Liam, or Priya, or…or _you._ It's their choice to make, and it's my job to do it."

"I know…I _know._ " Santana shakes her head, wishing, mostly, that this conversation never came up. "I respect your career, I do."

"I know that." She nods. "Do you want to change the subject?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"So about this dinner you're going to save me…"

"Hey, wait. Uh, this is not at all related to any of this at all, but…can I take you away for your birthday?"

"You want to take me away?"

"I mean, you're going to be _forty,_ grandma."

"Excuse me, I resent that." Brittany laughs, flicking a coffee stirrer at Santana.

"Okay, _MILF._ " Santana teases, then shakes her head. "Actually, I really, really hate that expression."

"So do I. Please never say it again."

"Believe me, I won't." She crosses her eyes and sticks out her tongue. "But can I? I mean, I don't know. I was thinking like…maybe I'd invite your parents to come too. I wouldn't want you to spend your birthday without Liam, and like, I'm not expecting them to watch him, or anything, but…"

"But maybe you want to take me on a birthday date that wasn't hot dogs?"

"Yes, that."

"So where was it you wanted to take me? And also, you're really cute."

"Um…Mexico?"

"Mexico?" A slow smile spreads across Brittany's face. "I was thinking you meant like, Atlantic City."

"If you'd rather go to Atlantic City—"

"I pride myself on the fact that I have _never_ been to Atlantic City, and I do really like Mexico."

"I know it's sort of last minute, and I don't even know if you can take the time off…"

"Well isn't it a good thing I'm the head of my department." She wiggles her eyebrows. "What about you? Will Shelby let you take time off on such short notice?"

"I…uh…might have asked for time off back in November. I told her I might not need it off, but I figured…I don't know. It's your birthday."

"Have I told you today that I love you?"

"You can tell me again, if you feel like it?" Santana purses her lips, and Brittany leans over to kiss them.

"I feel like it a _lot._ Seriously, I love you, and if you want to spend my birthday in Mexico with me, then I absolutely want to go with you."

"Okay so…I'll confirm the trip that I maybe, kind of already called a travel agent about."

"You're something else, Dr. Lopez. Something else entirely."

"I still think it's kinda hot when you call me Dr. Lopez."

"I know." Brittany breathes in her ear. "That's why I did it."

When Santana goes back to her own office, she's really excited. That tightness in her stomach about Brittany's rhinoplasty is gone, and before she does her final rounds of the day, she calls both the Pierces and the travel agency, confirming that she can actually do something really special for the woman she loves.

"Doccer Santana!" Liam cries out, when she makes it to the daycare to pick him up. "I needsa show you this! And my Mama!"

"Mama's got to work late today, Sir." She kneels down beside him at the table he's working at, big wooden beads spread out around him. "It's just me and you for dinner."

"But I needsa _show_ her." He pouts pounding his hand on the table. "I's 'mmportat!"

"Hey." Santana puts her hand over his, then realizes it's his _right_ hand that he was pounding, one he still gets frustrated when he's trying to use it. "What is it you want to show her?"

"I wanna show her my grabbin' hand! She say I needsa _try!_ "

"Your grabbing hand?" Santana feels tears prick the back of her throat, this feeling of sheer _pride,_ a sensation she's never quite felt before, swelling in her chest before she even _sees_ it.

"My grabbin' hand!" He closes his right fist around a thick string, and Santana brings the back of her hand to her mouth, holding in her gasp. "See! I do this! Like Manda say!"

"Wow, Liam." She squeaks out. Amanda, his physical therapist, has been coaxing him since his surgery, but this…this is the first time he's made a full fist. This is this first time he's _grasped_ something. "You did such a great job."

"See, now I put beads on!"

Santana watches him, amazed, as he maintains his grip and slides the beads on with his left hand. She wants to take a video, she wants to send it to Brittany, but also, she doesn't. She wants Brittany to see it in person. She wants Brittany to _feel_ the way he wiggles in his seat. She wants her to get the experience that she should have been first to witness, the experience that she's been _waiting_ for, since she made the decision to let the surgery happen. She wants her to witness this, and not on a cellphone video while she's prepping for another surgery.

It takes a lot of coaxing, and the promise of broccoli pizza, but Santana manages to get Liam into the car. She feels terrible that he's so excited to show his mama what he can do, and he can't, but she thinks, maybe, it's a small consolation that she's around, that he wasn't in day care when Brittany had to stay late. She thinks maybe that his excitement to show _her_ is kind of a big deal.

They eat dinner, and Santana gives Liam his bath. She really never thought she had a maternal bone in her body, but living here, spending so much time with Brittany's son, doing these _normal_ things with him, it's started to come naturally to her. It's natural, and again, she thinks of the night he accidentally called her _mama._ Again, she thinks of that ornament on the Christmas tree. And brushing her finger over the infinity symbol on her neck, she finds herself thinking about the future again. She finds herself thinking about that big, major _what if?_

Santana has just finished putting lotion on Liam, and helping him into his Pull-Up and pajamas, when she hears the door open downstairs. Liam's whole body jerks up from the bed, nearly knocking Santana right in the face with his head, and he vibrates with excitement.

"I show her now! I show her now!"

As he reaches over and grasps Percy with his right hand, Santana feels that same tug in her heart that she felt earlier when he did the same with the string. This time though, the tug comes from knowing that Brittany will see it. This time, it comes from knowing that she's about to see the face of the woman she loves, when _she_ sees her little boy do something that maybe part of her was never sure possible. Liam holds tight to the stair railing as he makes his way down. Ordinarily, he'd tuck Percy beneath his chin, and hold him there as he walked down, but tonight, tonight he doesn't have to.

"Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama! You home!" He holds up his right fist, grip on Percy a little loose, but there, nonetheless. "Mama! I try! See!"

"What did you t—?" Brittany's question dies on her lips, and with one heel still on her foot, she grabs the table in the entryway to balance herself. "Liam!"

"I do it! I tell Doccer Santana I need to show you, but she say you have a surgeny! So I show her I do them beads!"

"Liam." Brittany repeats. Covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh Liam, you did it."

"I do it Mama! I holdin' Percy with my grabbin' hand!"

"I see that, baby!" She kicks off her shoe, and catches him up in her arms, hugging him close to her chest. Santana watches as the tears form in Brittany's eyes, but she quickly looks up and takes a breath, preventing them from falling. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm _super_ proud of you for trying _so_ hard and learning to do that." Her hand wraps around his small one and his train, squeezing it gently. "Does it hurt you at all?"

"I's pinchy, but no hurt."

"Good, baby." Brittany's eyes meet Santana's, and she breathes this sort of visible sigh of relief. "Really good."

It takes a long time for Liam to settle down for the night. He wants to show Brittany how he opens and closes his hand over and over again, and Santana watches him, but more than that, she watches how Brittany responds to him. She watches how she never frowns tired of seeing it, how her eyes light up, how the smile never leaves her face. Then, when he's finished, he wants to snuggle with his mama—and _you cuddle too Doccer Santana_ —and he wants her to read him four books. He fights sleep for a long time, and when he's finally out for the night, Santana doesn't feel like she's very far behind him.

She doesn't go to sleep though. She's really only seen Brittany in surgery, and for ten minutes worth of coffee, and she'd like to sit with her while she has dinner. When they go downstairs, Santana is quick to heat up the oven and get Brittany's pizza reheated. She insists that she can handle it, that Santana has been with Liam all night, but she _wants_ to do it. For someone, outside of her job, who has never taken care of anyone but herself, there's some sort of particular pleasure she takes in being able to do things for Brittany and Liam. There's some sort of particular pleasure in being part of this _family._

"Can you believe it?" Santana asks, when she finally brings two beers to the table and sits down.

"Hardly. It was such a struggle to get him to even _try,_ and I'm honestly amazed that he's actually _using_ it."

"I felt really bad that he showed me first…"

"Huh?" Brittany cocks her head to the side, and Santana feels her eyes on her. "Why?"

"I don't know…you're his mom, and it didn't feel right to me."

"Santana. I never want you to feel that way. You're a _huge_ part of his life. You were there while I was deciding what to do about the surgery, you were the one who introduced me to Liz, you were the one right by our side as he was recovering. You're here, every day of our lives. You're…" Santana watches as Brittany pauses, considering her words, she thinks. "You're the other adult in his life. There's no reason why you should ever feel like him coming to you, or showing you something first, or _anything,_ really, would be something I'd be upset about. Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but I feel like…I don't know, I feel like we're in this together now, if that's okay with you."

"What do you mean?"

"We've been dancing around it for months, so I'm just going to come out and ask you." Brittany puts her pizza down, and reaches over to take Santana's hand. "This isn't to put any sort of pressure on you, and whatever answer you give me isn't going to change how I feel about you. But is being Liam's parent something you'd want? In the future, or now?"

"I…" The breath is stolen from Santana's lungs, and she takes a big gasp of air. "Is that…are we there?"

" _I'm_ there. I'm not twenty anymore and playing around, you know? I've told you this before, but if I didn't see our relationship is something permanent, I wouldn't have asked you to move in with me. I'm thinking about what the next steps in our relationship are, like I told you on Christmas. I'm not even asking right now for Liam to suddenly start calling you _mommy,_ or for us to give you legal guardianship of him. I don't want to rush anything you don't want to rush. I'm just saying that _I_ see you as a parental figure in my son's life, and I'd like to know if we're on the same page."

"Do you want more kids?" It comes out, without Santana meaning for it to. She hasn't even answered Brittany's question, but she can't help but ask. She can't help but _wonder,_ especially given her recent thoughts, and yet still, she covers her mouth after she says it. "I mean…yeah, that's basically exactly what I mean."

"I'd like more kids in the future, yes." Brittany nods. "I'd like to have a role in a pregnancy, and a birth, and those first harried months of having a newborn.

"Okay. Okay…yeah. That's good."

"So we're on the same page with that?"

"Yeah, totally. I mean, I'm a pediatric surgeon, but I never wanted kids, until now…with you, I mean, I think about the future more than I've ever thought about it before?"

"What does that future look like?"

"It definitely looks like _you._ It looks like tucking Liam into bed at night, and watching him grow up. I don't know. I really love him, and when I think about having kids, I _do_ feel like there's already a _really_ important one in my life."

"So if he decided he wanted to call you something other than _Doctor Santana_ in the future…?"

"I think—" Santana feels the corners of her mouth turn up and her heart rate quicken. "Britt, I was tucking him into bed one night, and he thought I was you. He mumbled _mama,_ and I don't know, it made me feel weird."

"Bad weird?"

"No, not _bad._ Just like, I don't know. Excited, for a second, maybe? I know he didn't mean it like that, and he was confused, but I don't know. My point is, if he ever decided he wanted to call me his mom, I'd be okay with that."

"Okay." Brittany nods, and kisses the palm of Santana's hand. "That's all I wanted to know."


	40. Chapter 40

Santana books their trip. She hasn't taken a real vacation in…well, pretty much ever—awful childhood vacations with her father notwithstanding—and she's so excited to take one with Brittany and Liam, with her _family._ After much deliberation, she chooses a suite with a swim up pool, figuring it will afford both privacy for her and Brittany, and something that Liam will be absolutely beside himself about, and then the room beside it for Brittany's parents.

In addition to the trip, Santana wracks her brain, trying to plan _something_ special she can do on the night of Brittany's birthday. She'll be forty. It's not a small occasion, and though she figures Brittany would take the trip as a huge sort of celebration, Santana isn't settled with just that. She's not settled with treating it like any ordinary day, and so she sits at her computer, trying to find the nicest restaurant in Playa Del Carmen, trying to make this the most special day of her life.

Liam is beside himself when they leave for the airport. Santana is fairly certain that he's only heard the words _airplane, pool, and_ _ice cream,_ _but she's so glad that he's excited. She knows that eventually, if themom_ _thing happens, she won't be able to spoil him rotten, but for now, and at the very least, for this long weekend, she wants to make sure he's absolutely spoiled rotten._

"Li, baby, we need to buckle up." Brittany tells him, as he stands up on the airplane seat, waving at all of their fellow passengers.

"I just sayin' _hi,_ Mama! All this peoples is goin' to Messico?"

"They certainly are." She laughs, helping him sit down. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Gramma and Grampa are comin' too?"

"They're coming in on a plane from Boston tonight, like Santana promised. But this morning, and all afternoon, it's just the three of us."

"Hmm." He taps Percy on Santana's arm. "And we get ice cream?"

"We'll get ice cream, and we'll go play on the beach." Santana assures him, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. Ever since her conversation with Brittany, things like that have become second nature to her, treating him with a certain tenderness that she'd been cautious about before.

"You bringed your bathin' suit, Doccer Santana?"

"I did. How could I forget that with our own pool, _and_ the great big ocean?"

"Percy, you no go swimmin'." He looks down at his train, as Brittany clips the seatbelt over his lap. "You needa watch."

Forty-five minutes into the flight, once his excitement over changing the channels on the TV has waned, Liam falls asleep. His head rests on Santana's arm, and she looks over at Brittany, who's smiling at both of them.

"Thank you for inviting him on this trip too." She murmurs.

"I would never expect you to spend your birthday without him." Santana shrugs. "Speaking of that, do you, uh, want to do a late adults only dinner tomorrow night? We'll spend the day with him, and then—"

"I'd love that." Brittany stops Santana where she's certain to begin rambling on.

"Okay. I figured we'd do cake with him at lunchtime, and then, as long as your parents don't mind staying with him…"

"They don't. They're _so_ grateful that you invited them, and I think my mom kind of figured you'd want to do something with just the two of us tomorrow."

"Yeah, I mean, obviously I'm really excited about being with Liam, but I also, I dunno, wanted to give you a really nice dinner."

"I love you a lot, you know, and let me tell you, forty is looking a whole lot better with you in my life."

"Britt." Santana's face heats up, and she leans over Liam to kiss her lips. "I love you too."

Liam sleeps through most of the duration of the flight. While he does, Santana orders wine, so she and Brittany can start celebrating a little early. She's a little tipsy when they touch down in Cancun, but while Brittany insists upon grabbing their carry on bags, Santana shakes out of the fog in her head and grabs Liam's hand to lead him through the airport.

He's amazed by everything. It's takes them a good twenty minutes to get to baggage claim, because Liam just can't stop pointing everywhere, can't stop pulling Santana off course to show her something that he's interested in. But she has no complaints about it. Being with him, watching him be excited about something, that's in her top five favorite things. The baggage claim itself is a huge source of excitement for him, and while they wait, he peers over, his little eyes following each piece of luggage as it comes out.

The same proves true for the cab ride to the hotel, and then all around the room, pulling everything out, jumping on his bed, jumping on _their_ bed, just unable to keep his excitement down. Finally, once they're unpacked, Brittany manages to wrangle him, scooping him up and bringing him into his bedroom so she can get him into his swim trunks.

Left alone with her head, Santana picks out her newly purchased two-piece swimsuit from the top dresser drawer. Much like going on vacation, Santana hasn't put on a bathing suit in so long, she can't even remember when it last was. She's spent a lot of time shopping for this one, scouring the internet for one with padding that will hide her misshapen breasts, that won't reveal, even when she gets cold, her damaged nipple, but still, she's uncomfortable about putting it on. Still, the idea of walking on the beach so _exposed_ makes her feel a little sick to her stomach. Self-loathing creeps up under her skin, and she scratches her stomach, trying to tamp it down.

"You're being an idiot." She mumbles to herself. "You've finally started to act like an actual person, don't do this. Not here. Not now."

It takes everything in her, but she wills herself to take her shirt off. She wills herself to undo her bra—shivering, when the air conditioning hits her nipples—and she wills herself to pull the top of the swimsuit over her head. For just a moment, she squeezes her eyes shut, refusing to look in the mirror, before she forces herself to open them again. When she looks at her reflection it's…not awful. Her left breast appears obviously bigger, but the lumpiness she notices when she's entirely topless is hidden by the padding, and the top conceals enough that her scars are hidden.

"I love when you wear black." Brittany speaks from in the doorway, and Santana holds back a startled jump. "You look so sexy in it."

"Oh, I…" Santana does some sort of wave over the front of her body, and steps back away from the mirror. "Thanks."

"Liam's all set to go, lathered in sunscreen and everything. I'm just going to get changed real quick, and then we'll go down to the beach?"

"Yeah." She swallows, quickly pulling down her shorts, and pulling on her matching bottom, beyond grateful that Brittany knows her well enough to quickly drop the subject of what she's wearing. "That sounds really good."

Santana is quick to throw beach towels into a bag, and grab her own sunscreen while Brittany changes. Liam is still bouncing around the room, showing Santana anything she may have missed, and she smiles at him, still impressed by the way he uses his _grabbin' hand_ to lift the remote control, the corded phone, the cookies and chocolates left for them by the hotel staff. When he runs to her though, wrapping his arms around her waist, she's taken by total surprise, and it takes her a moment to catch her breath.

"Doccer Santana! This my fav-rit hotel! Thank you for bringin' me!"

"Oh Sir." She leans down and hugs him tight. "Thank _you_ for coming with me."

"You silly! Mama say we come!"

"Well I know that. But still, I'm very glad you're here, Mr. Liam."

"Me too! Me too!"

They spend the whole day on the beach. Santana promises Liam that they can go in the pool at night, and with a whoop, he runs toward the ocean, only stopping when Brittany picks him up to carry him in. They eat hamburgers and tacos in the sand, and again, again, Brittany does that thing where she looks at Santana like she's the most beautiful woman she's even seen.

When Brittany's parents get in, they all have dinner together. Seeing how excited they are to be here, Santana is beyond glad that she invited them. Though she's slow to trust, they've embraced her, they've made her feel like she's part of their family, and they've given her this sense of safety. As unnerving as it might be, for someone who has spent most of her life pushing everyone away, Santana appreciates them. She appreciates them more than she can articulate, and she loves them, truly.

Although they'd promised Liam a night swim, after he nearly falls asleep in his guacamole, getting him right into bed isn't much of a challenge. Closing the door to his room, so he can sleep in peace, Brittany takes the baby monitor with her, and Santana watches as she slips back into her bathing suit and pours two glasses of champagne.

"Having a night swim?"

"I was hoping you'd join me for one." Brittany waggles her eyebrows, making Santana laugh.

"I'm _pretty_ sure funny business is frowned upon in the pool. _Especially_ because there's basically a strip of stone that separates us from your parents' room."

"Better hope _they're_ not doing any funny business then."

"Ugh! Britt! Gross!" Santana chucks a lime from the minibar at her.

"Hey!" Brittany wraps her arms around Santana's waist, lifting her up off the ground, and making her actually _giggle._ Before Santana knows it, Brittany is kissing her, kissing her, kissing her, until she's a little lightheaded.

"Are you trying to get me in the pool, or into bed?"

"The pool." She hum in her ear. "But later…"

"Later, hmm?"

"Later, you won't believe that I'm almost forty."

A shiver runs down Santana's spine, but when Brittany takes a step back, and picks up both champagne flutes with one hand, Santana snaps back to reality. She wastes no time getting changed back into her suit, not torturing herself by looking in the mirror. When she goes back out to the living area of their suite, the sliding door to the pool is open, and she sees Brittany's silhouette in the moonlight, standing in the pool, glass of champagne in her hand. There's something so strikingly beautiful about it, and part of her longs to take a picture, longs to keep it forever. Her plan is thwarted though, when Brittany looks over her shoulder, when she calls Santana over, with just a nod of her head.

"How's the water?" Santana asks, though frankly, she doesn't care, not when Brittany looks at her the way she does.

"Gorgeous. This place is something else, Santana." She shakes her head, handing Santana her glass as she slips into the cool water. "You didn't have to do all of this."

"I wanted to. I've never—I've never been in a relationship, and I want everything with you, Brittany, this trip included."

"We've got pretty close to everything, don't we?"

"Yeah." Santana nods, swallowing the dryness in the back of her throat. "We almost—"

"Girls!" Whitney comes out on her own balcony, donning a bright pink swimsuit, and interrupting Santana's sentence. "Sorry, was I intruding on a romantic evening?"

"Ye—"

"No, no, it's okay, Whitney." Talking over Brittany, Santana waves off Whitney's concerns. She's sure she was about to ramble on about something anyway, and the distraction is better. "We're just having a drink and a swim before bed."

"We were just about to do the same! Pierce! C'mon out!"

Brittany shakes her head, chuckling a little, and a wide smile spreads across Santana's face when Pierce comes out, clad in a bright orange Speedo. It's funny, Santana thinks, how Brittany is so subdued, compared to her parents. Brittany, in her neutral tone work clothes and her clicking heels is quite the opposite of these colorful, wonderful people, in both appearance and personality, but what she certainly got from them is their big heart.

Although Santana had been looking forward to a relaxing night in the pool with Brittany, there's something to be said for spending time with her parents. Because they live so far away, Santana has never really got to just do _this,_ to talk to them without it being a holiday, or a rush to do something else. But this is perfect. She gets to see Pierce horse around in the pool with his snorkel, she gets to see Whitney slowly get drunk on mojitos, she gets to see Brittany blush, as her mother tells embarrassing—and mostly exaggerated, Santana thinks—stories about her. She gets to see them just be _them,_ and she loves them more for it.

When they fall into bed an hour later, Santana is pretty sure she's never been more relaxed. Her hair is still wet from their post-pool shower, where Brittany had pressed her against the wall, legs spread, and fingers inside of her. She still feels woozy from alcohol and sex and Brittany, but she's content. She has no work to worry about, she has her girlfriend, who she thinks she probably loves more today than she did yesterday, wrapped around her. She has the little boy who she loves so fully sound asleep on the other side of the wall. She thinks she's never felt so _whole_ in her life, and it doesn't make her run scared, not in the slightest.

" _Mama! Mama! Mama!"_ The sound of Liam's voice over the baby monitor startles Santana awake. She hears Brittany groan beside her, as she makes an effort to sit up.

"I'll get him, Britt, stay."

"I'd try to say no, but _wow_ I'm not as young as I used to be. I think the champagne put me over the top."

"Speaking of _not young."_ Santana leans over to Brittany's side of the bed, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Happy Birthday."

"Mmm. I can say without a doubt that forty is already my best birthday ever."

 _Doccer Santana! Mama! You needa wake up! I already 'wake!"_

With a laugh, Santana gets out of bed. She takes one quick glance at Brittany, blonde hair spread across the pillows, arm draped over her face, and she smiles, appreciating the sight before her. She goes into Liam's little room, and finds him sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king sized bed, Percy and Edward and Daisy spread out in front of him.

"Doccer Santana! I don't know how t'get out of this big big bed!"

"Oh no!" She pulls her lips behind her teeth, trying to hold back her smile. "I _guess_ I'm going to have to help you down."

"Help me! Help me!"

"I'll definitely help you. But first, I need to tell you a big secret."

"I know the secret! I know the secret! Mama's birthday! Mama's birthday!"

"You remembered!" Santana laughs, scooping him up into her arms and tickling his belly. "Are you ready to wish her a happy birthday then?"

"Yes! Yes! Then cake!"

"We'll have to see about that, Sir. _Maybe_ pancakes first."

Liam's excitement is uncontrollable through the whole day, from the minute Santana boosts him up into bed to kiss his Mama. He's giddy through papaya pancakes for breakfast, then a glass bottom boat trip—where Santana quietly goes to puke in the bathroom because she made the mistake of looking down while the boat was moving. When they go to lunch, a big local restaurant that Santana found on the internet, Brittany and Liam first witness her speak Spanish, and the waiter brings out huge platters of whole fish and lobsters. Liam climbs up on her lap when the whole staff sings _Feliz Cumpleaños_ to Brittany, and he begs her to teach him all the funny words. Santana just hugs him then, because she continues to feel her love for him grow. She continues to feel like his _parent,_ and as such, she knows that she _can_ teach him her history, the first language her mother taught her, because she wanted to be fluent in the language she wouldn't learn in school.

By late-afternoon, Liam has a towel draped fully over him, protecting him from the blazing sun, as he naps on a lounge chair by their pool. He'd been swimming since they got back from lunch, and rather than take him in to nap, Brittany had held him until he fell asleep, then tucked him under the towel, and slipped back into the pool herself. Sprawled out on her own lounge chair, Santana watches Brittany swim. She's so methodical about it, her strokes perfect and even, and Santana thinks that it's not unlike how she does everything. Sure, steady, calculated, the exact opposite of Santana's own frenetic and insecure way of moving through life. Brittany is good for her, Brittany calms her, and sitting in peace, with the woman she loves swimming under the Mexican son, the son she's willing to share with her asleep on the chair beside her, Santana is certain, for the first time in her life, that things are all going to be alright.

The Pierces take Liam to dinner at five-o'clock. They give Santana and Brittany some time to get ready on their own, and while Brittany is doing her hair, Santana pops one of her pills, then stands at the sink beside her slowly putting her makeup on. When Brittany puts on a slinky black dress, Santana feels the air leave her lungs, and the wry smile Brittany gives her lets her know that she knows _exactly_ what she does to her.

Though Santana thinks it might be a little cheesy, she'd arranged for an intimate, candlelit dinner on the beach. Though she'd been slightly hesitant when calling about a romantic dinner for same sex partners, the hotel had been nothing but pleasant, and the waitress who leads them down to their table doesn't bat an eye at their entwined hands, or that enamored look that Santana can feel Brittany giving her.

"Santana." Brittany murmurs, and Santana looks down, sort of mortified at the heart-shaped circle of candles that surrounds their table in the sand.

"Oh God." She whispers, burying her face in Brittany's shoulder. "I didn't realize they were going to up the cheese factor to like, one-hundred percent."

"What? I love it! I'm glad they gave us several hundred candles, how else would we see our dinner once the sun goes down?"

"Why are you—?"

"Like this?" Brittany teases. "Because you're really, really sweet. This whole trip is sweet, this dinner is sweet, and I love you so much. This is the best birthday I've ever had."

"It's only just begun." She lifts her head back up, and she smiles, looking into Brittany's eyes. _"Felix cumpleaños, mi amor."_

Dinner is beautiful. Once Santana's embarrassment over how over the top it is ceases, she falls into easy conversation with Brittany. Living together, working sometimes eighty-hour work weeks a piece, and having a little boy who requires attention around, it's rare that they get a night out like this anymore. It's rare that they can sit back, with nowhere to be, and trade bites of food, smile behind glasses of wine, just revel in nothing but each order's company. The relationship they had, it's built on a solid foundation, it's built to _last,_ and they don't necessarily _need_ the whimsy of fancy dates, but still, it's nice. Still, it's important for them to have time to just unwind together.

"Want to walk on the beach?" Santana asks when they're finished with dessert.

"I'd love that."

When Santana stands up, she realizes that she's definitely more intoxicated than she'd realize, but still, she pulls out Brittany's chair for her. Realizing, Santana thinks, Brittany wraps her arm around Santana's waist and pulls her close, letting her press a kiss to her bare shoulder and giggle into it a little, before she's steady enough on her feet to walk.

They leave their shoes, and they meander along the shoreline, Santana feeling safe and warm in Brittany's embrace. They're in no rush to get anywhere, Liam is safe with Brittany's parents, and their hospital pagers are on the kitchen counter back in New York. They've got nothing but time, and they stop to trade soft kisses, they stop to pick up shells, they stop to admire the beauty of the last vestiges of pink sunlight slipping into the ocean. Somewhere down the beach, they stumble upon writing in the sand.

"Looks like someone got married." Brittany traces her bare toe over the initials before them.

"Jon and Phoebe." Santana reads, still leaning on Brittany as she squints down at the letters. "If our dinner was any indication, I bet it was really pretty."

"I don't think I'd mind getting married here." She tilts her head to the side, looking at Santana. Brittany's eyes in the moonlight are bright, and Santana feels a twisting, a _longing_ in the pit of her stomach.

"So what if we did?"


	41. Chapter 41

As soon as the words leave Santana's lips, it feels like time freezes. _So what if we did?_ They seem like the epitome of things that should make her want to run away, they seem like words she should take back, but she doesn't. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the romance of the evening, she's not quite sure, but it seems like the only idea in the word that makes sense in this moment.

"You'd want to do that?"

"I mean…not _right now._ I'm honestly way too drunk to have a wedding, this isn't Vegas. And Liam's sleeping, and I wouldn't want to marry you if he wasn't here. But like…I could marry you tomorrow, if you wanted to."

"I…wow." Brittany's eyes are on Santana, but she doesn't squirm. "I've told you already that I'm ready to get married when you are, but you've had a lot to drink tonight. I think we should talk about it again in the morning when we're both sober."

"I might freak out when I'm sober."

"Trust me, I know." She laughs a little, kissing the side of Santana's head and pulling her close. "But I'd rather you freak out _before_ we decide to get married, and change your mind, not go through with it and have you regret it."

"I don't think I could ever regret marrying you." Santana sighs, almost dreamily. She knows she's not herself, she doesn't _sound_ like herself, but still, she feels so light, so relaxed. "You're so good for me."

"You're good for me too, Santana. And you're good _to_ me, so much more than you know."

"I just want you and Liam to be happy."

"You make us happy, I can promise you that."

The rest of the night is a little bit of a blur to Santana. She remembers making love to Brittany, playfully humming _Happy Birthday_ as she goes down on her. She remembers fully wrapping her naked body around Brittany, telling her she loves her, and she's so glad she was born over and over again. But by the time she wakes up in the morning, her head throbbing, most of the details of the evening as a whole are pretty fuzzy.

She rolls over, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying to swallow, in spite of the dryness in her throat, and she realizes Brittany isn't in bed beside her. Blinking her eyes open, she looks at the clock. It's nearly nine-am, and she doesn't think she can remember _ever_ sleeping this late on a day she hadn't _just_ gone to bed after an overnight. She pushes herself to sit up, and there on the nightstand is a bottle of water and four pills laying on top of a note.

 _Hey!_

Didn't want to wake you you—you looked really cute snoring next to me. Liam's down at the beach with my parents, and I ran out quick. I'll be back around nine, if you want to wait for me before you head down there.

Love you.

Santana swallows the pills. She needs to pee, and she _really_ needs to brush her teeth to rid her mouth of the state tequila taste that lingers, and she wants to do that before Brittany gets back. With a groan, she forces her legs over the side of the bed, and has a lingering thought that something big may have happened in her and Brittany's relationship last night.

It comes to her when she's brushing her teeth, and her mouth drops open, toothbrush falling into the porcelain sink. There's a moment where she thinks she should regret what she said. There's a moment where she's absolutely paralyzed with fear, but then… Then she realizes she has no reason to be. She thinks back to Christmas, when Brittany gave her that little box. She thinks back to what she said then, _it's a promise that I will buy you one._ She thinks back to the night that Brittany told her that she can be a parent to Liam, if that's something she wants. She thinks back to Brittany saying that she'd want to have another child. She thinks back to every single moment since she first met Brittany, where she's felt like she's been careening toward the inevitable. Careening toward a lifetime with this amazing woman, who she once found so incredibly frustrating. She thinks back to all of that, and she realizes that while drunken words may have sprung from her lips, they weren't all that out of context.

She's splashing water on her face when she hears the door to the hotel open. Her stomach drops, thinking that the next few moments may determine the rest of her life. Reaching for the towel, she scrubs her skin dry, and she pulls back her hair, cringing a little at her frizzy hair and blotchy face. This isn't exactly how she wants to look right now, but it's too late to do much of anything.

When she comes out of the bathroom, Brittany is sitting on the bed. Santana isn't sure how exactly she manages to pull it off, but she's just so effortlessly beautiful in a printed sundress, her hair pulled back, and her sunglasses on top her head. Brittany smiles when she sees Santana, and heat creeps up her neck, looking down at the long t-shirt and panties that she's wearing.

"How are you feeling?" Brittany asks, patting the sheets beside her for Santana to sit down.

"Actually _not_ as bad as you'd think, considering how much tequila I ended up drinking last night."

"You really enjoyed those margaritas." She laughs, leaning over the kiss Santana's temple.

"I did. Depending on how I feel in a few hours, I _might_ order _one._ " Santana shakes her head, contemplating how that will go over. "So…uh…last night."

"Last night. We can forget it happened, if you don't want to talk about it."

"And if I don't want to forget?"

"Then I have some things to show you."

"What things?" Santana looks around the room, biting her lower lip.

"None of this is to push anything on you, okay? I was just up, and my mom had left us a note that they had gone down to the beach at 7:30, and I just figured that I would look into some things."

"Things about weddings?"

"Things—" Brittany hesitates for a moment, Santana can tell, and then she nods slowly. "Yes, things about weddings."

"So that's something you'd be fine with, just having some spur of the moment wedding in Mexico? I mean, didn't you plan the wedding that didn't happen for over a year."

"I did, and look how that worked out. Frankly, I don't care about a wedding, Santana." Brittany stands quickly, and she goes over to her suitcase, pulling out the box for her face cream.

"What are you doing?"

"Showing you this." She opens the box, and pulls out a smaller box, a jewelry box.

"Oh my God. Were you going to propose to me, and I blew it?" Santana gasps, covering her face with her hands.

"I didn't have a plan to propose, no."

"Then I…I don't understand."

"I bought you a ring a few weeks ago. I actually wasn't in the store intentionally to buy you one, I just happened to walk past when I went out to get us lunch."

"The day with the sushi? When it took you like an hour?"

"Yes." Brittany laughs. "The day with the sushi. I didn't bring it here with a plan to propose. I figured if the timing was right, I would, but you didn't ruin anything. You just made the timing right for me to give you this."

"Brittany…"

"I love that you asked me to marry you on the beach on my fortieth birthday. Now I'm asking you to marry me back."

"You make my proposal so much more romantic than it was."

"It _was_ romantic. It made my heart almost jump out of my chest when you said it, Santana. If you want to get married on the beach today, I know how to make it happen. If you want to wait until we get home, and we plan something big, I'm okay with that too."

"You…know how to make that happen?"

"That's where I was. I talked to the hotel, they gave me a lot of information, and I sat in the lobby and read over it. It'll take us most of the morning to get it arranged, but it's possible to get married on the beach tonight at sunset."

Santana takes a moment to process it. Not just the fact that she could be Brittany's wife by the time the sun goes down tonight, but the fact that Brittany, steady and careful Brittany, had gone out in search of all of the information to make it happen, if this is what Santana wants. Brittany brought an engagement ring with her to Mexico. Brittany wants to _marry_ her, and all of this, it just feels like _fate._

"We can really get married tonight?" Santana whispers, awe-struck.

"There's a flight your mother can get on, if you want her to fly down."

"Is there anything you didn't think of?"

"I don't want you to think this means I'm pushing you—"

"I don't. This just makes me think, for the thousandth time since I've met you, that you're exactly the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

"So does that mean this is a yes?"

"You're sure you want to marry me, Brittany? I'm no less of a disaster than I was when you met me."

"You are everything I've ever wanted. There is no part of you that isn't perfect to me. You're thoughtful, and brilliant and gorgeous, and I love you in a way that hardly feels real."

"Okay." Santana whispers, completely unsure what to say in response to that. "Then let's get married?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Without hesitation, Brittany opens the ring box, and she slips the simple diamond on Santana's finger. For someone who'd hardly imagined that she would even even be in a relationship, the weight, both physically and emotionally, of the ring on her finger gives Santana a rush. This woman, this absolutely perfect woman, the woman who is the complete opposite of her, in every way possible just gave her a ring. This amazing woman managed to turn Santana's drunken proposal into something special, and with the way her heart pounds, she finds it hard to breathe.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Uh-huh." She nods. "Just…you know, I get that anxious feeling in my chest. I need to breathe for a second."

Brittany puts a gentle hand on Santana's thigh as she breathes slowly, in and out, in and out, in and out. It frustrates Santana, the way she physically reacts to things, but she thinks that if the medication she's on hasn't stopped that from happening, if being in a stable relationship with a supportive woman hasn't stopped it, then it's just something she has to continue to manage on her own.

"Kiss me?"

"Of course." Brittany leans in, pressing her lips to Santana's, and her hand to the side of her face. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Santana swallows. "Really good, actually. I should call my mom…I don't know if she'll come, but…since we're going to get married at sunset, I should give her some time to decide."

Santana calls her mom. She doesn't actually expect her to drop everything and come to Mexico. She doesn't expect that she'd _want_ to. Though their relationship has really improved in the years since she'd left Santana's father, she's still not really sure how _close_ they actually are. So she's surprised when she reacts excitedly to the news, when she books her flight before she even hangs up the phone. She's surprised by the sense of _peace_ it gives her, that her mother is actually going to be here for this.

While Santana takes a shower, Brittany goes down to the beach to tell her parents. By the time she's finished, Brittany is back in the room, and she's helping Liam out of his wet bathing suit and into shorts and a t-shirt. She smiles at them, twisting her wet hair into a braid, because she won't bother to do it now. She smiles, and she watches, waiting for Liam to notice her presence, because she knows Brittany already does.

"Doccer Santana! Doccer Santana!" He wiggles away from Brittany. "Mama say you got a s'prise! Mama say you got a s'prise!"

"I didn't tell him yet." Brittany mouths to her, and Santana nods.

"We goin' somewhere! Where we goin'? Where we goin'?"

"Hey, come sit, Li." Brittany pats the floor beside where she sits folding his bathing suit on top of his towel. Liam plops down, and then Santana takes a place cross-legged beside him, feeling Brittany squeeze her calf. "So, we're going to do something _really_ special tonight. Do you know what it means to get married?"

"No! What's married? Can I get married? Is it food?"

"It's not food, baby." She laughs, kissing his head. "It's when two grownup people love each other, and they make a promise to love each other forever."

"But you _a'ready_ _love Doccer Santana forever and ever and ever! And me too! I can marry you Doccer Santana?"_

"I'll tell you what, Sir, when I marry your mama, that means I'll promise to love _you_ forever too, okay?"

"Okey! Like a mama?"

"Um…"

Santana looks at Brittany. She feels like the entire world is frozen around her. This little boy, who she loves like she never thought she could love is looking at her with eyes black as hers. He's looking at her with this sense of wonder, like this new thing exists, something he didn't know possible, and it cuts through her. She breathes deeply, and she takes his small hand, smoothing her thumb over puckered skin, memorizing every bit of this moment.

"Only if you'd want that, Sir Liam."

"Mama still my mama?"

"I'll always be your Mama, my baby boy. But if you'd like Santana to be a mama to you too, then I'd like that a _lot._ " Brittany strokes his hair, but looks at Santana as she speaks.

"How's I gonna know who's who?"

"Oh." Santana covers her mouth with the back of her hand. The ease with which Liam has accepted this is just…something. "Oh, my Liam. You can call me whatever you want. Mom, or mommy, or you can still call me Santana, anything you want."

"Even Wonder Woman?"

"Even Wonder Woman." She chuckles, and hugs him close, her chest swelling as she does.

"I think about it, okey?"

"You think about it as long as you need, Li." Brittany wraps her arms around both of them. "But in the meantime, we're going to all go out together and do a few things, because guess what?"

"What? What?"

"We're going to have a wedding _today,_ and we have a lot to do!"

"A weddin'?"

"A wedding, where we all get dressed up _really_ fancy, and then go down to the beach."

"I still no know what this is, but okey!"

Liam swings between them as they walk through the resort and into the big terra-cotta lobby. Santana is so grateful that Brittany went and did all of the research while she slept this morning, because with the way she's overcome with emotion, she's fairly certain that she couldn't have managed to handle any of the logistical preparation.

They take a cab to the consulate. Santana's hands shake, as she signs the marriage application forms. The "z" in Lopez dips just a little lower than normal as she signs. Her knees jiggle, as they wait for their visas to be translated into Spanish. Her heart races as her chest x-ray is performed. Her stomach twists as they pay their license fee. But when that piece of paper is handed to them in an envelope, all of those nervous tics stop. She suddenly feels weightless, and she glances again at the ring on her finger, before she looks back to Brittany, with Liam on her lap. It's real, it's all real, and butterflies erupt low in her belly.

Because they opt to wear sundresses, rather than anything traditional, they don't spend long shopping. On the way back to the hotel, Liam sleeps in Brittany's lap, and Santana clutches the bag containing her white sundress, and another with the wedding rings they'd bought. Closing her eyes, she leans her head on Brittany's shoulder. She needs to take her pills when they get back, she needs to make sure that she isn't having a meltdown in the middle of her wedding, but for now, the proximity to Brittany is calming, the proximity to Brittany reminds her that this is _good,_ that this is everything she wants, despite the way her heart pounds.

By the time they get back, Maribel has arrived. She and Whitney sit out by the pool sipping mojitos, and Santana is suddenly stricken by just how grateful she is that this has all worked out. She wouldn't want a big wedding, and as much as she loves Kurt and Mercedes, even having _them_ there would serve to overwhelm her. Eloping with Brittany would have been more her speed, running away to Vegas for the weekend with Liam in tow, perhaps. But now that it's about to happen, having their parents here, on a private beach in Mexico, it seems like everything she _should have_ dreamed of.

Brittany takes Liam to get dressed in her parents' room. Santana tells her it's not a big deal, they can both get dressed together, but Brittany, perhaps wanting to keep _something_ traditional, is insistent that they don't see each other dressed just yet. She laughs a little at her, but she doesn't protest, she just gets in the shower, and starts what might be a long process of trying to look more beautiful than she ever has in her life.

She has rollers in her hair, when there's a knock at the door. Assuming it's her mother, who'd promised to come by when she'd finished getting ready herself, she goes with her partially opened dressing robe. Instead, she's surprised by Whitney, and quickly pulls the silk closer around her, before stepping back to let her in.

"Oh…um…hi Whitney, I wasn't expecting you."

"Sorry to surprise you, honey, I just figured I'd come in to see how you were doing, and if you needed anything."

"I'm okay, I think. I had two glasses of champagne to stop my hands from shaking long enough to do my makeup…"

"You're nervous?" She quirks an eyebrow and plops down on the chaise in the living area.

"I'm just…I don't know, I feel a _lot._ It's a big responsibility, being enough for them."

"I'm fairly certain you already are, Santana. Brittany does things with her head, if she didn't feel like you were just the right person, she wouldn't be doing this."

"It's more than just being Brittany's wife though, Whitney. There's so much more at stake than that. I mean, I don't even know what you think of all this."

"By _all this,_ do you mean my grandson?"

"He was your daughter's son." Santana shakes her head, fighting back the tightness that presses against her ribs. "And I just…I feel like you should have a say in all of this."

"In what? In you being his mother?"

"Well yeah. Do you hate that?"

"I actually _don't_ think I should have a say. My daughter left custody to her sister, because she had full faith that every decision she made would be in her son's best interest. _But,_ just because I don't have a say doesn't mean I don't have an opinion." Whitney looks at Santana, and Santana swallows hard, the tightness expanding. "And in my opinion, you'll be a great mother to him, and a great wife to Brittany."

"But doesn't it make you—"

"Sad? Heartbroken? Yeah, it does. Every time something incredibly happy happens, I regret that she doesn't get to be here for it. That she doesn't get to stand at Brittany's side when she marries a woman she loves with everything in her. That she doesn't get to watch Liam grow into this amazing little boy. That I'll never get to see her smile, or hear her laugh in response to all of it again. But that doesn't mean I'm not over the moon for Brittany, and that I'm not so glad you'll be part of our family."

"Whitney—" Santana starts, but Whitney shakes her head, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Enough of this, what do you still have to do?"

"Just take these rollers out and put my dress on."

"Well good." The partially opened door opens, and Maribel steps in, white lilies in hand. "I'm just in time."

Whitney goes back to Brittany, and Santana gets dressed. She's fairly certain that she's never seen her mother cry before, but when she puts on that simple white sundress, and lets her clip the flowers into her hair, she does. She cries, surprisingly, a _lot,_ and Santana is taken aback by the strength of the hug she gives her, by the murmured apologies that she breathes into her ear. Apologies, she guesses, for their shared years of hell, apologies that Santana wants to say aren't necessary, but she can't deny that they feel really good to hear.

And then it's time. Santana leaves her shoes behind, and with Maribel following, she walks down the pathway to the beach. The very bottom of the sun kisses the ocean, making the sand spread out before her shadowy. In the shadows, she sees Brittany, one hand holding her dress up, and the other holding Liam's hand, feet in the ocean and facing away from her. The sight steals her breath, and she pauses, taking them in. Her future, right there on the beach.

Almost as if she can feel her, Brittany turns. Her face is bathed in shadows, and Santana can't make out her features, but she knows that she's smiling, beckoning her to come join them. She doesn't hesitate any longer, she steps into the warm sand, and she walks to them, watching Liam turn and wave to her, whooping with joy in his pressed yellow button up.

"We not swimmin', we waitin'! We needs to show you somethin'!"

"You do, huh?" Santana takes his other hand, but she can't take her eyes off of Brittany. Tears spring to her eyes, and she leans over to kiss her lips, whispering against them, "You're beautiful."

"You're beyond words, Santana Lopez." She gives her another kiss, letting her lips linger until there's a pull of Liam's hand.

"Mama! We needs to show her!"

"Okay love, let's show her, but remember, little feet need to stay back, right?"

"I putted my little feet before." He giggles. "Come see!"

Santana's eyes are still glued on Brittany as she lets Liam lead her forward. Suddenly he stops, and he lets go of their hands, jumping up and down. She looks down, and there are their names, written in the sand, just like they'd seen the night before, rose petals spread out all around it. She gasps, and then chokes on a laugh, seeing Liam's footprints smearing the edge of the heart. Without a second though, she scoops him up into her arms. His sandy feet brush her dress, but she just holds him tighter, hugs him harder, and fights not to keep her tears at bay, at least for now. When Brittany's arms wrap around both of them though, she loses control. She's entirely overcome with emotion, and when she chokes out a sob, it's mixed with laugher.

"You make me so happy." She gurgles kissing Brittany's lips over Liam's shoulder. "I'm so afraid I'm going to wake up from this."

"You not sleepin', Wonder Woman!"

"We're going with _Wonder Woman,_ huh?" She laughs harder, until her knees buckle, and she falls back into the sand with Liam in her arms.

"I tryin' all them names! Next I say, you silly, mommy, and you maked us fall."

 _Oh my God._ Brittany mouths, clutching her chest. The way Santana had felt when Liam had called her _mama_ in his sleep suddenly pales in comparison to this, and she squeezes him harder, not even trying to stand up again.

"Too hard! Squeezin' too hard! Mr. Noodle, stop!"

"Mr. Noodle?"

"Yup! I try that name too."

It isn't until the officiant comes down to the beach that Santana finally manages to find her feet again. Brittany takes her hand and helps her up, and Liam dances around in circles, unsure how to stand still with all the excitement that he can't quite understand.

"Are you ready?" Brittany leans in, pressing her lips to Santana's ear. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more ready, and I've never been more sure."

"Then let's get married."

The pink of the sunset reflects from the ocean onto Brittany's face as they stand before the woman who will marry them, and Santana takes both of her hands, squeezing them tightly. The way Brittany looks at her makes her insides twist, and she tilts her head to the side, a silent _thank you for loving me._ She feels Liam's little hand wrap around the material of her dress, and without looking, she knows he's doing the same to Brittany. She's never seen anything more beautiful than Brittany, right here, in the moment they'll be married, and she struggles to even hear the words that the woman between them is saying.

 _Hi._

 _Hi._ Santana smiles at the way Brittany's eyebrows raise when she mouths the word, and she just can't help herself, she has to bring Brittany's hand up to her mouth and kiss the back of it.

A beaded lasso is placed around the two of them, and Liam giggles, seeing them wrapped up like that. Santana looks down to wink at him, and he picks up the frayed end of the rope, tapping it on her thigh. The officiant speaks in Spanish, and Santana's mind is going as fast as it can, translating so she can tell Brittany exactly what they've promised later on. To protect and nurture their relationship. To show tenderness and consolation. To show each other respect, confidence, and faithfulness, to provide advice to one another. To control their faults and support one another. To be blessed with (more) children, and to set a good example for them.

" _Si,_ I do." Brittany promises, when she switches to English, and repeats everything for her. Santana watches her eyes in that instant, the way they sparkle, the way they look deep into hers, and in that look, she feels an immense wave of calm.

"Santana?"

" _Si,_ I do."

Santana doesn't hear anything else. All that exists in the world is Brittany putting a ring on her finger, Brittany pulling her close, Brittany kissing her lips, Brittany dipping her so low that her hair touches the sand beneath them. She's _giddy,_ a word she'd be hard pressed to have ever used to describe herself, but now, there's nothing else. Now, there's this woman who she loves completely, her _wife_ kissing her on the beach. She wraps her arms around Brittany's neck, and she couldn't care less about how long a proper wedding kiss should last. She's going to savor this moment forever…until she loses her footing again, and pulls Brittany down on top of her in the sand.

"Did you forget how standing works today?" Brittany laughs, pressing her hand to Santana's face.

"I think it was the champagne, and also being totally in love with you."

"Hey! Me too! Me too!" Liam jumps on top of them, and Santana accepts Brittany's help sitting back up, so she can hold Liam in her arms. "You did the weddin'! You did the weddin'! We's married! We gonna be married forever!"

"That's right." Santana shivers at the way Brittany looks at her when she says it, and she rests her hand on top of Brittany's. "We absolutely are."


	42. Chapter 42

"Excuse me, you did _what?_ " Kurt shrieks, grabbing at Santana's hand.

"We got married, Kurt." She rolls her eyes a little, shoving her other hand into the pocket of her scrubs.

"Yes, I understand what you're saying, but really, you did _what?_ Are you pregnant? Are you dying?"

"Oh my God." Santana yanks her hand away from him, a look of horror on her face. "What is _wrong_ with you, honestly?"

"Excuse _me_ for being slightly _shocked_ that you, Dr. Santana Lopez, who, by the way, I had to browbeat into going on a _date_ with someone just, what, fifteen months ago, would go on vacation and come back _married._ "

"Oh, please. You're acting like a pulled a Britney Spears and married a stranger. I live with her, we've _discussed_ marriage before, and so, we just _did_ it." She yanks her hand away from him and straightens her rings. "Are we done with this?"

"I'm just personally offended that you—"

"My mother, her parents, and Liam. That's it." She shakes her head. "That's what we wanted."

"So am I supposed to start calling you Dr. Pierce now?"

"No. I'm keeping my name, she's keeping her name. I know this may _shock_ you, Hummel, but as much as you're trying to make this about you, it's kind of _not._ "

"Well what did Mercedes say?"

"Like a normal human being, she was happy for me."

"Hey! I'm happy for you! I can be happy, but also shocked. I just never really took you for the marrying kind."

"Yeah, well, neither did I, but then I fell in love."

So maybe Santana gets a little dreamy while talking to Kurt. If she's being honest, the past five days of her life have felt like a dream anyway. She'd married Brittany on the beach. She'd danced with her in the sand, rose petals beneath their feet. She'd kissed her lips under a thousand stars. She'd lifted a nearly sleeping Liam into her arms, cake all over his face, and tucked him into his bed, heart nearly stopping as he'd murmured _night, Mommy Noodle._ She'd shared a lounge chair and sipped champagne with her new wife, until Brittany had scooped her up in her arms, and carried her to bed to make love to her.

Even after a harrowing flight back to New York, where bad weather meant they were stuck in their seats, and Liam cried for half of the flight, she still feels euphoric. Brittany, being Brittany, and in a perpetual state of preparedness, had printed out the forms they need to file with HR, and once Liam had gone down for the night, they'd sat at the kitchen table, filling them out. They'd kissed goodbye outside of the daycare center, and Santana has been on cloud nine ever since.

She scrubs in for her first surgery at twelve-thirty. It's just a basic bowel resection—albeit, on a ten-day old—and Hayward is with her. Her rings are safety pinned to her bra, a tip she got from Sandy, her favorite scrub nurse, and she doesn't even notice that she's humming Etta James while she opens the newborn's abdomen, until she catches Hayward smiling at her across the surgical table.

Though she's a little embarrassed being caught in the act, Santana doesn't say a word. She just continues on with her resection, allowing Hayward to close up when she's finished. Santana is just leaving the OR, slipping her rings back onto her finger when she runs into Holly Holliday in the hallway. It's been awhile since she's seen her, but even with every other change in her life, Santana hasn't put their last conversation entirely out of her head.

"Hey stranger." Holly cocks her head to the side. "Long time no see. I was just in a meeting with Corcoran and Pierce, and I hear congratulations are in order."

"Oh…thanks Holly." Santana twists her rings and shrugs. Her breasts ache more than they normally do, and she already feels exhausted, but she smiles at Holly. "It was a spur of the moment decision."

"A good one, I hope."

"No, yeah, the _best_ one, actually. Was there something you needed?"

"Not really. Corcoran told me you were operating on a newborn, so I went and watched from the gallery."

"You watched a bowel resection?"

"On a ten day old by one of the most talented young surgeons in this hospital, yes. I actually was going to speak to you today anyway. I'm doing a repair of a neural tube defect on Friday, and I thought you might be interested in scrubbing in."

"In utero?"

"In utero."

"Are you trying to entice me into this dual board certification again?"

"I'm not trying to entice you into anything." Holly shrugs. "I just personally think it's a cool procedure, especially if you've never done one."

"I haven't."

"I know, I asked Corcoran."

"Look, Holly, I appreciate the offer, but I just don't think this is the right time in my life to start training in another specialty."

"You know there's no pressure with me, Lopez. I just think you're a gifted surgeon, and scrubbing in with me on this one isn't an expectation of anything but good company."

"Really?"

"Duh, have I ever lied to you?"

"Well…no." Santana bites her lower lip, considering it. "Okay, I mean, it's a surgery in utero, so I'd be kind of dumb to say no to that."

"I wasn't going to say it, but…" Holly shakes her head. "Do you have ten-am free on Wednesday to discuss it?"

"I'll be there."

Santana is harried for the rest of the day. She ends up doing three appendectomies in two hours, and her rounds get so backlogged that she doesn't even change out of her scrubs before she does them, leaving her rings pinned to her bra, and her hair in a wild bun. Her feet ache, her breasts are tender, and she has the start of a tension headache, when she finally goes back to her office at nearly eight o'clock. She'd texted Brittany earlier, asking her not to wait, but still, she hadn't planned staying _this_ late, and she definitely hadn't planned to be cutting it so close to making it home for Liam's bedtime.

When she gets into the house, the lights downstairs are off. She drops her bag in the foyer and hangs her coat up, before padding quietly up the stairs. Light streams out from Liam's bedroom, and Santana sighs with relief, glad that she'll have a few minutes with him. Looking in through the open door, she sees Brittany on the bed, Liam's head in her lap, flipping through his book as she runs her fingers through her hair.

"Alright, baby, last book."

"But what about Docc—Mommy Noodle?"

"She's working a little late tonight." Santana watches as Brittany bites back a smile at his new name for her, and she feels the grin spread across her own face.

"Surprise." Santana whispers, slipping into the bedroom. "Just in time for bed."

"You comed home! Mama save you dinner! We had sketties and meepballs!"

"Sorry." She mouths to Brittany, seeing the way he wiggles and shouts, and sits down on the bed. "Well that sounds pretty good, I can't wait to eat them."

"First, you lay." He pats the bed beside him, and laughing a little, Santana lays on her side, propping her head up on her hand and just watching him wriggle down beneath his covers.

"How was your day today, sir?"

"I did so much paint! I maked you seven pitchers, and I maked Mama seven pitchers."

"Seven, huh? Wow, where am I going to hang up my seven pictures?"

"In you office! I get you the tape!" He jumps up, by Santana catches him with her arm, helping him lay back down.

"How about tomorrow morning, when your Mama has her early patient, you hang out in my office at the _hospital,_ and you help me hang them there?"

"I stay there all day?"

"Well…" Santana laughs a little. "I have some surgeries tomorrow, and I don't think you want to stay in my office all alone, do you?"

"I bring Lord Tub-a-Ton. He keep me company."

"Cats are frowned upon at the hospital, Sir." She tucks the covers up to his chin, and kisses his forehead. "But what if I promised you that I'd come home with you tomorrow night? No late night of work."

"And we watch _Dory?_ "

"That's…that's a question for your Mama." When Santana looks at Brittany, she shakes her head, telling her without words that it's absolutely her right to make that decision. "But I think it'll be okay with both of us."

"Okey." He yawns big and snuggles deeper beneath his blanket. "Nigh'-night Mama. Nigh'-night Mommy Noodle."

The tears well up in Santana's eyes as she kisses him again. Brittany squeezes her forearm, and she turns off the light, kissing Liam on both cheeks, before she stands from the bed, offering Santana a hand up. She takes it, and she squeezes it tightly, running her thumb over the inside of Santana's engagement rings.

While Santana eats the dinner Brittany saved for her, they're quiet. It's still sinking in, upon their return home, that they're married. Part of Santana thought that maybe she'd panic when she got back into her element, but she hasn't. It seems to have happened so seamlessly. For all intents and purposes, nothing has really changed, but for Santana, it all feels bigger. It feels bigger when Brittany kisses her good morning, and murmurs _hi, wife._ It feels bigger when Liam calls her _Mommy Noodle,_ and wraps his little arms around her. It feels bigger, because _wife_ and _mother_ mean so much _more_ than _girlfriend_ and _Doccer Santana._ It feels bigger, because it _is,_ but still, Santana doesn't fear it.

"Did you end up talking to Holly today?" Brittany asks, as Santana finally frees her breasts from her bra, pressing her palms into the hardened flesh.

"I did, yeah."

"How was it?"

"It was fine, I think. I mean…I'm going to do a neural tube repair with her, so that's pretty cool." Santana winces, raising her arms up to pull her t-shirt on.

"Do you want a massage?" Brittany asks her, leaning back against the pillows on their bed.

"I…um…yeah, maybe. I'm kind of sore today, I guess."

"Come sit." She pats the bed beside her, and Santana nods, conceding. "I'll do it over your shirt?"

"Yeah…please." She looks down, face heating up. Her breasts being an issue are still something that she doesn't discuss, it's still something that haunts her every day. It's still something that mortifies her.

"So tell me about this surgery." Brittany presses her hands to Santana's chest, and Santana leans back, trying to use conversation as a distraction.

"We're going to meet about it—ugh, not so hard—I don't know. She—ow—wants me to, I mean…I _know_ that she wants me to consider—shit—another board certification."

"And it's not entirely far fetched, right? This is something you've considered?"

"Fuck, seriously it's too hard." Santana puts her hands over Brittany's and pushes them away, tears springing to her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"If I'm hurting you, you have no reason to be sorry."

"They just feel like rocks right now."

"I know." Brittany nods, and Santana narrows her eyes.

"What?"

"It's not my place to say. You're not my patient."

"No, but I'm your _wife._ " Santana pushes herself up off the bed, giving herself some space, and wraps her arms around her midsection. "So don't you think if you have a opinion, you should give me it?"

"I don't want my opinion to turn into an argument."

"Is that what you think? That I'm just so volatile that I'll jump down your throat because you have something to say about this?"

"No, actually." Brittany stands up, across the bed from Santana, and she runs her hand through her hair. "I think that this is something you struggle with, and something that upsets you, and I'm not going to say something that will upset you further."

"So you're just going to say _nothing?_ " She snaps, turning her back. "I need to take my pills."

"Santana."

"Don't _Santana_ me. You're being Dr. Pierce in your head, but you won't say it out loud. For the record, that doesn't make me feel any better."

Santana huffs her way into the bathroom, and she locks the door behind her. Grabbing the cup beside the sink, she lets the water run until it's cold enough, and she watches it fill the cup. She sets it back down on the counter, and she clenches her fists, fighting the urge to _growl_ as she opens her bottles, pouring her Prozac, her Valium, her Ambien onto the marble. She doesn't want to fight with Brittany. Not in bed on the first day after they've gone back to work, not _ever,_ but the way she feels right now, after one tiny, stupid thing set her off, it's impossible not to.

She swallows the pills, and she lifts up her shirt to look in the mirror. Her breasts still look like a war zone, that's not something that will ever change, but today, they're more tender than usual, today, they're hardened. Today, she'd cut them off entirely if she could. She hates them, and she's so damn torn between listening to what her plastic surgeon wife doesn't want to say, and shutting it all out completely.

It doesn't take long before the Ambien begins to take effect. She's usually in bed by then, but she's still standing at the sink, wooziness setting in. She grips the grey stone, and she blinks her eyes. She has to get into bed, she has to go face her wife before she passes out on the bathroom floor and makes even more of a fool of herself. Steeling her nerves and wiping her eyes, she goes back into the bedroom. Brittany brought the laundry up, and she's sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully folding each piece. She looks up at Santana, and Santana just shakes her head a little, crawling into bed and covering herself with the blanket.

"I love you, you know." Brittany leans over her, just as Santana's eyes close, and she presses a kiss to her temple. "And I'd never do or say anything that will make you think I respect your choices any less."

When Santana wakes up in the morning, Brittany isn't in bed. She gets into the shower, and she washes herself slowly, willfully looking away from her breasts as she gently soap them up. She gets out, and she chooses to wear her hair natural, though she doesn't often, to work. She clips up her dark locks, and she puts her makeup on, before slipping into her clean scrubs. She has no meetings with patients today, she has no reason to deal with pantyhose or heels. She has surgeries, so she'll be a surgeon. She'll wear her scrubs, she'll slip into her coat, _Dr. Santana Lopez, Pediatrics_ stitched on the pocket, that first reminded in her life that she was actually _worth_ something.

She doesn't really want to go downstairs. She's sure Brittany is sitting at the breakfast table with her coffee, talking to Liam. She's sure that they're laughing. But she doesn't want to be the jerk she was last night. She doesn't want to start off her marriage this way. She doesn't want to show her _son_ that she's a coward. She doesn't want _him_ to feel slighted by her, even more than she doesn't want _Brittany_ to. She wants to be bigger than her fear. She wants to be bigger than the things that have kept her down her whole life. She wants to be better, because they deserve that, and she deserves it too.

Liam is eating his pancakes when Santana goes into the kitchen. Brittany is going through the mail, and Santana's coffee cup is beside the pot, where it always is. She takes a breath, and she pours the coffee, watching the steam rise up from the cup, and curl over the brown liquid.

"Good morning." Brittany murmurs, stacking another piece of mail in the _opened_ pile.

"Mommy Noodle!" Liam notices her presence and cries out. "You is sleepin' too late!"

"I'm sorry about that." She smiles weakly, and brings her cup to the table. "I guess I'm a lazy bones today, Sir."

"You a very lazy bones! We needs to go put up my pitchers!"

"That's right, I forgot. We'll go very soon, once you finish your breakfast."

"I'll take a cab in early if you're not ready, Santana." Brittany tells her. "There's no reason you should have to go in an hour and a half early just because I do."

"It's fine. I'm ready, and Liam and I have pictures to hang."

Santana eats her dry toast and sips her coffee without saying much more. She's not sure _how_ to bring herself to say what she wants to say, so she just _doesn't._ She packs up her briefcase, and she gets in the passenger seat of the car, fiddling with the radio, while Brittany straps Liam in behind her.

At the hospital, Brittany gets in the elevator with them. As they go up, she fixes the button on Liam's sweater, she hugs him close, and she kisses him goodbye. When she gets to her floor, she leans in toward Santana, she looks in her eyes, and she presses a soft kiss to her lips.

"I love you, I'll see you later."

"I love you too." Santana mumbles, offering Brittany a sort-of half smile.

"Bye Mama! Bye!"

Santana grasps Liam's hand as they continue up in the elevator. We hops between his two feet, and he wiggles in his little backpack. She loves watching him. She's loved it since before she and Brittany even got together. He absolutely _fascinates_ her, and when he looks up at her, giving her a wide grin, she can't help but give him one in return.

"We gotsta hang all my pitchers now!" He twirls in circles when she unlocks her office door. "We put the _big_ one on you door!"

"Is that where you want it, Sir?"

"I do! I do!" Liam wriggles off his backpack and pulls it out. There are three circles scribbled in different colors. "Me and you and Mama! Me and you and Mama!"

"That sounds like the perfect one for my door." She swallows hard. "I've got the tape right here."

"And I get this from Mama! She say you have it for you desk, okey?" He raises his eyebrows, struggling to grasp a frame with his right hand. "See? See? It's from the weddin'! My feets is so sandy!"

"They are, aren't they?" Santana flicks her eyes up, tears forming behind them. "That was a great day, huh?"

"My best, _best_ day, Mommy Noodle!"

"My best, best day too, buddy."

It takes them a long time to hang Liam's artwork. He's very particular about where he wants them, and Santana doesn't rush him. She lets him take them down, put them back up, and do the same thing over and over again. She finds that she needs this, in a way she couldn't even fathom, and it's after nine, by the time she drops him at daycare, hugging him tightly and breathing in his baby scent. Her son. Her _son._ She has a son now, and though she and Brittany had talked briefly in Mexico about the legalities surrounding that, she hasn't even quite wrapped her brain around _any_ of it.

Santana's morning is packed. She does her rounds, spending a longer than normal amount of time with the newborn she'd done the surgery on yesterday, talking to her parents, assuring them that she's going to be just fine. She assists a laparoscopy in a fourteen year old with Dr. Pillsbury in gyno, cringing at the amount of scar tissue already on her uterus. She has her weekly meeting with Shelby. And then, when it's done, she goes to the coffee shop around the block, and she brings two coffees to Brittany's office, hoping she's there.

"Hey." She mumbles in the doorway, looking down at the cups in her hands. "I…uh…are you busy?"

"For you?" Brittany shakes her head, smiling a little. "Never. Especially when you brought coffee."

"How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Just…" Santana sighs, sitting down across from Brittany. "Just turn things off. Act like I wasn't a bitch last night."

"Your feelings were valid, Santana. They _are_ valid."

"But it doesn't mean I had the right to snap at you."

"No, it doesn't, but I understand why you did." Brittany sips from the cup and nods her approval. "I don't want our bedroom to be a place where we discuss my medical opinions, especially when it's something that you might not want to hear. That's our sanctuary, okay?"

"Okay…but…"

"You wanted my medical opinion last night. If that's still something you want, we can discuss it here, or in the kitchen, or in the park, but not in our bedroom. I just don't feel comfortable with that."

"Okay." Santana nods. "That's fair. And…and yeah…if you have one, I want to know it."

"I haven't done a medical exam on you, Santana. Let me just preface this with that, okay?"

"Uh huh."

"I do touch your breasts kind of a lot though."

"Understatement." A cheeky smile breaks across Santana's face, and Brittany laughs.

"I want to separate this completely though, from physical attractiveness, or any of that. I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, I think your _breasts_ are beautiful."

"I mean…I don't…"

"But I do. I do, however, think you have a lot of scar tissue, and judging by last night, and other nights before that, it's causing you a lot of pain."

"I always feel like this when it's cold. It's so much worse than any other time of year."

"That could absolutely be from the scarring. Just like any injury, the cold makes it more uncomfortable. Can I ask you about your removal surgery?"

"Capsular contracture. That's why I had them taken out. As if the hack job that was done when I first got them wasn't bad enough…" She shakes her head. "Anyway, he told me that the tissue would soften again eventually."

"In my professional opinion, and again, without examining you…I would assume too much of the capsule was left, and that's why the scarring is so bad."

"So…"

"If It were me, Santana, I would have them looked at. You know that I would, if I could, but…I have former colleagues whom I trust, who are at Northwell or NWH who, if this were something you wanted to pursue, I could call."

"Britt…I just…I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"I know that." She stands up from her desk, and she comes around, wrapping her arms around Santana. "I'm going to be your wife again, now that I'm done being a surgeon."

"What would my wife tell me to do?"

"Whatever it is that you're most comfortable with. And as your wife, I hope you know that I'll always be entirely supportive of you."

"And…I just, I have to ask, not because we're even really having this conversation yet, or maybe any time soon, but…if we were to…if I were to…you know, carry a baby, or whatever…would it make this more painful?"

"Oh." Brittany smiles a little, and Santana sees how those bright eyes stare into her. "Because of the swelling in your breasts, yes, it probably would. But you don't need to feel any sort of pressure because of that. That's not something I _expect_ you to do, you know that, right? No matter what kind of conversation we had last month."

"Yeah, no, I know. But it's still something I'm thinking about. It's still something I think that I'd really _want_ to do. I don't know. I feel like there's a lot of stuff up in the air right now, and maybe that's what making me feel kind of out of control. In case you didn't get the memo, I _suck_ at stuff changing."

"I'd like to take you out to dinner tonight, Santana." Brittany kisses her temple. "Just the two of us, and then maybe we can talk about all of the things you're concerned about? Work through it together."

"I still don't know why you're like this."

"And it's still because I love you." She rubs her thumb over Santana's dimple. "So yes? Dinner with my wife?"

"Yeah…I think I'd really love that a lot."


	43. Chapter 43

Santana goes through the rest of her day feeling anxious about dinner. She goes through it feeling anxious about _everything,_ if she's being honest with herself. Her medical conversation with Brittany gave her a _lot_ to think about, and though she tries her hardest to focus solely on her patients, she'd be lying if she said it wasn't consuming her.

She loves a plastic surgeon, she _married_ said plastic surgeon, but still, when she thinks about Brittany's profession as a whole, she's not sure she'll ever be able to trust other surgeons the way she trusts her wife. She wishes she'd met Brittany when she was seventeen. Well, maybe that's creepy. She would have been a minor, and Brittany would have been twenty-five, and just starting her internship. She wouldn't have been the surgeon who would have done her original breast augmentation. She wouldn't have been the one who could have saved her from the disaster that followed, but…maybe she wishes she could have met someone _like_ Brittany. Someone who might not have done cosmetic surgeries on anyone under eighteen. Someone who wouldn't have botched it so badly if she had. Someone who wouldn't have taken her already paper thin self-esteem and decimated it, almost beyond repair.

But that's not the reality. The reality is, she had the surgery. She can't undo the last fifteen years of her life. And she's happy now. She's so, so happy. She has a family. She has Brittany. She has Liam. She has two people who love her so completely that sometimes it makes her chest hurt. And she loves them too. She's _not_ the same girl who was made to feel worthless by her father. She's not the girl who had to witness the disgusted face of someone she thought she cared about. She's not the girl who hooked up in bar bathrooms, because she couldn't handle that ever happening again. But still, that girl exists deep within her. That girl _haunts_ her, and really, really, she has to work on that.

At three-forty-five, Santana goes down to the daycare. After her two-thirty surgery, she'd gone into a panic, remembering her promise to Liam last night. She'd texted Brittany immediately, and after she promised her an early dinner, where they'd be home in time for movie night, she breathed a little easier, but still, she wants to talk to Liam herself. Still, she wants to make sure that he was okay with this.

"Uh, hey Sandy." Santana shifts her weight between feet awkwardly at the door. "I know Brittany told you Artie is taking Liam out today, but, um, I just wanted to see him before I left."

"He's still taking his afternoon nap. You can go Ln back there and see if he's waking up yet ."

"Cool…awesome…thanks."

Santana doesn't hesitate to go inside. She's done this enough times to know exactly where Liam's cot is, and creeping slowly, so as not to wake anyone else up, she finds him, curled up on his side with Percy in his hand, and his _Where the Wild Things Are_ quilt wrapped around him. She watches the rise and fall of his chest for several moments, before she leans over and kisses the top of his head.

"Mommy Noodle?" He murmurs, not opening his eyes, but rolling onto his back.

"How did you know it was me?" She laughs a little, ruffling his hair.

"I smell you. Mama say you see me later."

"I _will_ absolutely see you later, Sir. But I promised you a movie night, and I wanted to make sure you knew that was still happening."

"Dory?" He opens his dark eyes slowly, looking up at her.

"Definitely Dory. Your Mama and I won't be gone very long."

"Okey. I wait for you."

"Good." Santana breathes a sigh of relief, kissing his little head again. "I love you, Sir Liam."

"I love you Mommy Noodle." He closes his eyes again, and rolls back into his side. "Nigh Night."

Feeling much better about the fact that she's not breaking her promise, Santana goes down to Brittany's office. She's sitting at her desk, glasses on, and reading intently. Smiling a little, Santana slips inside, and she sits down across from Brittany's desk. It takes Brittany a moment to look up from her reading, but Santana watches her lips curl up, and acknowledgement of her presence. It's been a roller coaster of a day, but that simple smile is calming, that simple smile tells Santana that it will all be okay.

"Do you need more time?" Santana asks, when Brittany finally looks at her.

"No, no. I'm good. Early dinner is much better. I haven't really stopped to eat today." She closes her file and stands up.

"Yeah, it's been kind of…crazy."

"Are you alright?"

"No, yeah, I'm fine. Just…you know."

"I do." She nods. "I made us a four-thirty reservation at the Thai place around the corner from home. Artie says he doesn't mind dropping Liam off at the house later on."

"We should really…I don't know, have them over for dinner or something soon."

"I'd like that." Brittany grabs her coat and slips into it, putting her file in her briefcase. "We'll set something up."

They're quiet on the walk to the parking garage. They're quiet on the car ride downtown. It's not the same sort of _silence_ that they had in the morning though. Santana picks at her fingernails, but she doesn't feel the same anxiousness that she felt before. She's nervous about the conversation that will come, of course, but that's a product of who she is. That's a product of what she tries so hard to fight against.

Brittany pulls out Santana's chair in the restaurant, and she nods a small _thank you._ She stares blankly at the menu while Brittany orders a bottle of sake, and then she meets her eyes across the table, searching them for something she can't quite put her finger on.

"How is your chest feeling?"

"Inside or out?"

"Both." Brittany puts her hand over Santana's and squeezes it.

"Tender." It's the only answer she can think of, and Brittany nods her understanding. "I'm trying to be better."

"You're pretty perfect just as you are. I hope I can make you see that."

"You try pretty hard." Santana lets out a bitter sort of laugh. "And I do love you a lot for that."

"I want to help you feel less uncertain about things. Especially the big ones." Brittany reaches into her bag, and takes out the file she's been reading at the hospital. "I'm going to give you these adoption papers I had drawn up, and I'm going to ask you to do whatever you choose with them. I want you to know that I meant what I said about wanting you to be Liam's legal parent, but at the end of the day, that's still your choice, and whichever choice you make, I support you entirely."

"I went to see him before I met you." Santana runs her hand over the folder, a chill running through her body. "I promised him a movie night. I wanted him to know that I'll never break a promise that I make him."

"You never have." Brittany shakes her head. "To either of us."

"I'm trying really hard."

"You're succeeding. Just let me know what you decide on this."

"I don't have to let you know. It's what I want. I'm his _Mommy Noodle,_ Britt."

"You are, and I love that. I love that more than I even know how to express."

"So…um…we have to meet with a lawyer, then?"

"We do. I can set it up maybe next week, get this rolling."

"Okay, yeah. That would mean a lot to me." Santana's heartbeat quickens in her chest, as she peeks into the folder. "And you're sure you want this?"

"I'm sure, Santana. Like you said, you're his _Mommy Noodle,_ he's adjusted to this idea so quickly, I see no benefit in holding off on making it legal. God forbid something ever happened to him, or to _me,_ I want you to have the power you need, and the rights that you _should._ "

"That…takes a weight off my chest. I mean, I just wasn't sure, and I was thinking about it, and…whatever, it doesn't matter. Are you…in a rush to have more children?"

"It's not something I'd ever rush, no. It's not something we _have_ to do either, honey. There's no pressure there. We _just_ got married too, we could always revisit this conversation in a few months, or next year…"

"It's something I want, Brittany. I'm sure of that. I just…I don't know right now. If I decide to go see a surgeon, or whatever, I just, you know…would rather do that first."

"I want you to do what's best for your body, no matter what that is, or how much time that means we wait. I'm _really_ enjoying being married to you."

"Even though I've already been an insufferable asshole less than a week in."

"You—" Brittany laughs, and it makes Santana smile. "You're you, and that's why I love you."

"Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles."

"I think it's cute that you quote musical theater sometimes."

"Hey, I got _something_ out of being forced into the glee club in high school."

"You also have a beautiful singing voice."

"Oh yeah, my renditions of _You Are My Sunshine_ are legendary." Santana rolls her eyes a little.

"I catch you singing Fleetwood Mac to Liam sometimes. I love that."

"So does _he._ Kid's got good taste in music."

"That he does. My sister bought the whole Rockabye Baby collection for him. The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, AC/DC, Elton John, Springsteen, you name it, Liam was listening to the lullaby version before he was even born. I bought him a couple again, after…you know, but it was difficult. That was _her_ thing. I think she'd be really glad that you sing to him the way you do."

"I hope that I'm doing right by her, I really do."

"I hope the same thing every day, Santana. But I know she'd want this. When I was with my ex, she'd waited for us to have children together, because she said it was her favorite thing, sharing parenthood. She'd be so glad that there was someone else I got to share Li with."

"He makes me so happy, Brittany. This _Mommy Noodle_ thing is one of the best things that's ever happened to me. I can't believe how much I love being someone's mommy."

"Trust me, I know that feeling _exactly._ Sometimes the best things come that you don't plan for."

"Yeah…yeah they do. Britt?"

"Yes?"

"I don't really think I'm ready to make a decision yet, about the other stuff but…you'd come with me, right? Make sure they'd do what _you_ would do?"

"Of course I'd go with you. If I could ethically do the surgery on you, and you wanted it, I would."

" _That_ would make things a whole lot easier."

"I know, but I can't. But I've been around plastic surgeons nearly half my life. I promise you, I _do_ know some of the best. Even if we went to Boston…there are options."

"Who did Liam's? I mean, after you…"

"My friend Elliot. He's a pediatric plastic surgeon. But his husband Adam is probably _the_ best in corrective cosmetic surgery. If we went to Boston, that's who I'd recommend."

"Okay." Santana nods. "Okay, okay, I'm going to keep all this stuff in mind. I just…yeah. Thanks."

After the subject turns back to plastic surgeons, Santana asks Brittany about her day. She'd really rather hear _that_ than talk about her own options, but as Brittany tells her about the third round of surgeries she was doing on one of the women in the Christmas Eve fire, she can't help but continue to think about it. She can't help but fret about what's right. What's right for her, for Brittany, for Liam, for their…maybe future child. She can't help but feel like she _knows_ that fixing her breasts won't only help her finally heal physically, but also, might actually have some sort of positive effect on her anxiety. She can't help but feel like not doing it would be a choice that disservices her completely.

Brittany holds Santana's hand as they walk home. It's only a half a block, but Santana loves holding Brittany's hand. She loves feeling like there's another half to her own. She loves feeling complete. She's calmer now, than she was last night, with Brittany's hand around hers, with the paperwork to legally adopt Liam, and in spite of swirling, twisting questions in her mind. She's calmer, and maybe she can actually work though her emotions without completely flying off the handle.

They're only home ten minutes when Artie knocks on the door. Liam flies into Brittany's arms, and Santana smiles, watching the way she loves him so dearly, before she takes him into her own. She gets only a moment to hold him, before he's wriggling down, chanting about Nemo and Dory, but that moment is enough.

"You no lose me, right Mama?" Liam whispers halfway through the movie, licking his buttery fingers.

"I'll try my very hardest not to ever lose you." Brittany glances at Santana. "I promise."

"You no lose me, Mommy Noodle?"

"I just got you, Sir." Santana runs her hands through his black hair, and he snuggles in closer to her on the couch, popcorn that had landed on his chest earlier falling to the floor. "And I'm going to do everything I can to keep you."

"You my real Mommy Noodle."

"That's right, Li." Brittany takes his scarred hand, rubbing her thumb over the smooth, pink skin. "She's your real Mommy Noodle."

"Squishy! Squishy!"

"This is kind of my favorite part too." Brittany leans over Liam and kisses the side of Santana's mouth.

"The Liam snuggles, or the movie?"

"Both. Definitely both."

When Liam falls asleep, Santana carries him to bed, and tucks Percy beside him. She kisses his head, she turns on his Twilight Turtle and his sound machine. She makes sure the blinds are closed, and she kisses him again. She's already getting good at this mom thing, she thinks, and when she turns around, Brittany is watching with a soft smile. She doesn't say anything, but Santana feels her words, especially as her fingers ghost the back of Santana's hand when she too goes to kiss Liam.

They go back downstairs when Liam is asleep. Santana is tired down to her bones, she didn't sleep well last night, even after taking her pills, but still, she knows it's too early for bed. She knows if she lays down, she'll be up by four in the morning. So she sits down on the couch. She flicks past MSNBC, even with Maddow in, she's too weary to drown herself in the news. She settles on a rerun of _2 Broke Girls,_ and she accepts a piece of the chocolate bar that Brittany brought in from the kitchen.

"You have your meeting with Holiday tomorrow, right?" She asks, squeezing Santana's knee.

"I do. I actually did some preparation for it today. Holly is so on point about everything, I don't want to walk in looking unprepared."

"Are you excited?"

"I guess so…I mean, yeah, I'm totally pumped about the surgery part, but I feel like Holly's really pushing for me to do this secondary Board certification thing, and I just don't think now is the time in my life to do it."

"I could understand that." Brittany nods. "Sometimes I think my second certification was even harder than the first."

"Really?"

"I do, yes. Your first set of Boards, that's all you can think about, right? Your only priority. The second one, I was doing my regular job, plus preparing for an exam on something totally different. And I didn't even have Liam then…"

"I mean, yeah. I have a family now. I considered doing it two years ago, but I procrastinated, so…"

"If it's something you're interested in—"

"It's not. Not right now. I'm thirty-two, Britt. If I'm going to…if we're going to have a baby, I think it's something we should start talking about this year. I don't want to be thinking about Boards while we do that."

"Oh." Santana studies Brittany's face as she breathes in deeply.

"Since we're putting things out there today, I want to put that. I know you said earlier about tabling it for later, if I wanted to do that, but I don't. I know that I want to have a baby with you, I mean, jeeze, we talked about it before we got married even, and the more I think about it, the more I know I want it. Especially now, knowing I'm going to adopt Liam…it just makes me want to do this even more. And don't want to wait a few years only to find out I missed my opportunity."

"Wow…okay. I'm not going to lie, I didn't see this coming today."

"Oh…" Santana's face falls, but Brittany shakes her head.

"I don't mean that in a bad way at all. I'm just saying given everything else, it's unexpected, but the _best_ kind of unexpected."

"I'm going to think on this surgery thing for a little bit, but once I'm done with that, I want to start making a plan."

"I love plans." Brittany laughs.

"Don't I know it." Santana rolls her eyes playfully, and Brittany leans over to kiss her lips.

"So then were going to plan to talk about our plan to have a baby once you figure out your medical plan?" Her eyes twinkle, and Santana giggles a little.

"Yeah, that's the plan."


	44. Chapter 44

Thoughts of surgery consume Santana. The first two nights after her conversation with Brittany, she has nightmares. They're the same ones she had for years. They're the ones so deeply rooted in reality that she wakes up in a cold sweat, memories of waking up from her first surgery in excruciating pain plaguing her. There the ones where she pictures her father's face, imposing and overbearing, telling her, if not with his words, than with his actions, that she's not good enough.

During the day, she feels like she's half dissociated from reality. Work is good for her. She throws herself into it the same way she always has. She meets with Holly. She tells her again that she's not ready to pursue another certification, but that she's happy to scrub in with her on surgeries. Maybe it's selfish, maybe she's taking the opportunity from someone who deserves it more than she does, from someone who actually _will_ pursue that field, but she can't help it. She's fascinated by neonatal surgery, she's fascinated by Holly's skill, and Holly doesn't seem to mind that she wants to tag along.

The day of the neural tube repair, Santana is exhausted. Between preparing for this, getting ready to file the adoption papers for Liam, and constantly deliberating about what to do next, she hasn't slept well. By the time she's scrubbed in, she's had six cups of coffee, and as much as she's been looking forward to this, part of her wishes that she was home on the couch, snuggled up with Liam and Brittany.

"You look like hell." Holly teases, elbowing her in the ribs. "Up all night with you new wife?"

"Ha." Santana rolls her eyes. "We're both doctors, and we have a very active little boy, we know the value of sleep. I've just got some stuff going on, but I'm fine."

"You sure? You know you can always talk to me, right?"

"Thanks, Hol. I'm fine though. Totally prepped and ready for this."

"I'm sure you are. You've always been the most prepared surgical assistant I've ever had."

"Coming from you, that's a high compliment." She smiles.

"Only save 'em from the best. Let's do this, sweet cheeks."

Everything that's been swirling in Santana's head disappears the moment Holly slices the abdomen of the pregnant woman on the table. When she's in a surgery like this, she finally discovers an ability to compartmentalize, and as Santana makes the first cut on the fetus, there's nothing else in her mind but _him. It's a risky surgery, both she and Holly know that, but right now, she feels like a super hero, giving this child a lease on life that may not have been available to him. Santana has worked with spina bifida patients over and over, and doing this, she thinks she'll save him some of the agony of surgery after birth._

They close up, and Santana pulls her cap off to wipe the sweat off her brow. It may have been empowering, but it's also been physically draining. It ran significantly longer than they'd planned, with the repair incredibly complex, and even Holly, who's usually chipper and chatty doesn't say much beyond thanking Santana.

Brittany has already left for the night, promising Santana chicken pot pie when she gets home, and gathering her things, she steps out into the swirling snow and hails a cab. Her whole body, and especially her breasts ache as she leans back in her seat. She thumbs through her phone, considering, debating whether or not to make the phone call that's been haunting her. When she gets to the letter _C,_ she stops, staring down at Dr. Adam Crawford's name. She should call. She knows she should call. She should go to Boston and at least let him _look_ at her. It's someone her wife trusts, and with Brittany, she would trust her life.

She closes her eyes and presses the send button, taking short, rapid breaths while the physical he rings in her ear. It's stupid, so stupid that she lets herself get like this, but it's a big step. For gods sake, the only one who's even _seen_ her breasts since she had the implants taken out is Brittany. She's embarrassed, she's _terrified_ but the way she's been aching lately, and the fact that she wants a future where this isn't a major issue are why she knows she has to do this.

" _Crawford."_

"Uh, hi, Dr. Crawford? This is Santana Lopez, I got your information from Brittany Pierce. I'm her wife."

" _Hey! I saw your wedding pictures on Facebook! Congratulations! You found yourself quite a catch!"_

"Don't I know it." She laughs nervously. "So I…was hoping maybe I could set up a consultation with you."

" _Of course! What are you looking to do?"_

"Um…" Santana lowers her voice to a whisper, feeling the heat creeping up her neck as she looks at the cab driver. "I had my breasts done fifteen years ago, and had the implants taken out after. It was…not a good procedure, and I have a lot of scar tissue that's become really painful."

" _Okay, I can definitely help you with that."_

"Look, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not sure I actually want to _have_ surgery. I don't want to waste your time and not be up front about it."

" _A consult is never a waste of my time, and frankly, it would be an honor in itself to meet Brittany's wife. Her and my husband have known each other since undergrad."_

"Oh, cool. So, um, what does your availability look like?"

" _Can you do something a week from Monday? Say two-o'clock?"_

"I think so. Can you pencil me in, and then after I talk to Britt, I'll confirm?"

" _Absolutely. Just let me know as soon as you do."_

"I will. Thank you, Adam."

Santana hangs up, and she sighs heavily. She's not sure if the phone call lifted a weight or added another, but all she knows is that she's glad when the cab pulls up at home. She just wants to hug Liam, to kiss her wife, to remember the things she has that make her so grateful to exist. Liam's face is pressed to the window when she climbs the limestone steps. Santana smiles at him and blows a kiss, watching him scramble down to be close to the door when she opens it.

"Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle!" He cries out, letting Santana scoop him up. "I been waitin' for you!"

"I'm sorry I'm so late today, Sir."

"Mama say you saved a baby in a belly! Where's it?"

"He's still inside his mommy, he's got a little time to cook in there."

"No cookin' babies!" His eyes widen, and she hugs him closer.

"You're right, we can't cook babies." She laughs. "But he's growing in there, and he'll come out in a few months."

"You growin' a baby?"

"I—" Santana sucks in a breath, taken aback by his question. "No, no I'm not."

"Okey. I just checkin'." He shrugs and wriggles down. "Mama make chicken pie."

"I heard." She smiles. "Are you hungry?"

"So hungry! C'mon!"

Liam toddles into the kitchen, and Santana follows him, smiling at the sight of Brittany with pot holders on her hands in scrub pants and a hoodie. She puts the pie on the table and helps Liam into his chair before she comes to wrap her arms around Santana, kissing her earlobe.

"Hey. How'd it go?" Brittany whispers.

"Good. He's good. It was just a long surgery, and I'm ready to sleep for a week."

"How about a weekend, at least?"

"I think Liam might have other plans."

"I'm pretty sure a lot of them will be cancelled. I've been tracking this snowstorm, and it looks like we're really getting hit late tonight. I assume I'll end up getting called in."

"One of us always ends up on call for severe weather, huh?"

"Always the way." Brittany pulls back and kisses her lips. "Just cross your fingers that the entirety of upper Manhattan remembers that they _shouldn't_ walk on ice."

"I'll definitely do just that." She nods. "I'd love a weekend we could stay in, and I need to talk to you about some stuff."

"Do you want me to put off dinner?"

"No…no. It can wait. I'd rather do it when Liam's in bed anyway."

"Okay…" Brittany gives Santana a concerned glance, but she shakes her off.

"I'm fine, I promise."

All through dinner, Liam chats about his day. That's always one of Santana's favorite things, the way he regales them with every single detail. It's good for her busy mind, having no space for silence, and when the silence is filled by a little boy as exuberant as Liam, _her_ little boy, it's that much better.

They do bedtime. Santana bathes him, and Brittany reads his stories. When he's asleep, Brittany has to make some changes to her emergency call sheet for the weekend. She excuses herself to the office downstairs, and Santana goes into the master bathroom.

Slowly, she pulls off her top, letting her hands coast over her stomach and the elastic band of her sports bra. Pulling it off carefully, she stares at herself in the big, lighted mirror. She looks at the marks the bra has left, digging into her, constricting her as she bent over the patient on the operating table. Seeing that, it's no wonder she feels so much pain, and she shakes her head a little, tracing the divots with her thumbs. It takes a lot more for her to look at the scars.

The angry purple lines make her stomach churn, and the mangled nipple makes her feel like she might vomit. She tries not to look often, but she has to now. She has to see this, she has to feel the bewilderment that comes when she thinks of Brittany, touching her there, kissing her there, treating her with such reverence, when her body is anything but something that should be revered. Surgery won't change her appearance, she knows that much. But it will help the pain, it'll eliminate some of the tissue inside, it'll keep her from having constant reminder of the childhood she keeps running from.

She doesn't hear Brittany enter through the open door. It's not until she sees her face behind her in the mirror that she startles. Meeting Brittany's eyes in the glass, Santana feels her body twitch, uncomfortable standing like this in such bright lights. Slowly, giving Santana the time to object to her entering her personal space, Brittany presses into her from behind. Santana sinks back against Brittany, feeling like her physical presence lets her lose some of the heaviness than engulfs her.

"This won't always be a thing." Santana murmurs. "I swear it won't."

"For as long as it is, I'll support you. Whether it's a few months, or forever. I know that it's about so much more than just a physical thing, I know that it's so wrapped up in things that have hurt you your entire life. But I'm here, I've got you."

"I called Adam." She whispers, taking Brittany's hands and moving them up to her breasts, giving her permission to just…feel her. So tenderly, Brittany's thumbs brush her scars, and Santana fights the urge to cry. "He can see me next Monday."

"So we'll go to Boston."

"If you can't—"

"I can. We'll drop Liam with my parents, and we'll get a hotel."

"We can stay at your parents house…"

"I know we can, but I'd rather give you a place you can have space, and where you don't feel like to have to hold any of your feelings back. I know you haven't been sleeping well, deciding whether or not to even talk to him, and all I want in the world is for you to be comfortable."

"I just want to fix myself so I'm the best wife, and especially mother, that I can be, Britt. I have to move past this shit with my father, and I think this is a good start."

"For the record, I already think you're an amazing wife and mother, but I _do_ want you to feel healthy, whole, and _valid._ I think even just talking to Adam is good, regardless of what you decide to do next."

"I'm honestly terrified of surgery. If I told my patients' parents that, I'd be without a job, but…ugh."

"I hate that you're in pain." Brittany presses her chin into Santana's head. "Both physical and emotional. But you won't be alone, I'll take care of you while you heal."

"I know." Santana nods, shivering a little, even in the warm bathroom. "Thank you."

"Were you showering?"

"Ugh, yeah, I'm disgusting right now. That OR underboob sweat kills me. Did you want to take one with me, or did you already…"

"I did already, but I'll take another."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

After their long, hot shower, Santana takes her pills, crawls into bed and turns on the TV. Her head rests against Brittany's chest, and she relaxes completely when she combs her fingers through her hair. It's the most soothing sensation, listening to her wife's heartbeat, having her scalp massaged, and it isn't long before she falls sound asleep.

It's still dark when she wakes up, groggy, and disturbed by rustling in bed. Even through all her medication, she usually hears Liam on the monitor, so when she feels his elbow poke into her side, she's surprised. It's cold in the room, and she pulls the blanket more tightly around herself and his sleeping form, shivering, and a little confused, until she sees Brittany in the doorway, carrying two more heavy blankets.

"Power's out." She whispers, not wanting to wake Liam. "I was still up when it went two hours ago, and I carried him in with us, but it's just now starting to get cold."

"How's the weather outside?"

"It looks bad out the window, and I just got off with Chief Sylvester. De Blasio declared a state of emergency. The bridges are all closed, and the trains aren't running. Shelby's supposed to be covering the pit on the shift change, but she's stuck on the LIE."

"So you have to go in?"

"Maybe just for a few hours." Brittany covers Santana and Liam with the heavy quilt, and leans down to kiss her lips. "We'll see if she makes it in."

"How are you getting to the hospital?"

"I'm going to drive. I've got the emergency placard in the glove box, and I think it's better than walking."

"Be safe, okay?"

"I will." She kisses Santana again. "I love you."

"I love you too."


	45. Chapter 45

After Brittany leaves, Santana can't fall back to sleep. It's freezing in the house, and she's worried sick about her driving in the snow like this. She pulls Liam close to her, and she turns the screen of her phone on and off, on and off, on and off, until she feels like she might lose her mind. Of all weekends to be on call, this one is the worst, and if she could have, she would have gone in her place. But she couldn't, so instead, she stares up at the ceiling, and she frets.

 _Go to sleep._ Her screen lights up with the text message. _I know you're up worrying, but I'm here safely._

 _You know I'll worry all night. How bad was it?_

 _Pretty nasty. I hope the power comes back on soon at home. Are you warm?_

 _Liam's a human space heater…for now, I'm toasty._

 _Good. I'll text you again as soon as I can, but really, please go to sleep. I love you._

 _I love you too._

She still doesn't sleep. She's never had a _house_ before, but she feels like without power, she should be worried about gas, or electrical sparking, or frozen pipes, or…something. Despite knowing that Brittany is the most prepared and responsible person she's ever known, she can't help but feel a sense of concern having Liam alone in there. She just wants to keep him safe, she _always_ wants to keep him safe.

"Cold nose." He wakes up, rubbing her nose with his own and giggling. "You so cold."

"Are _you_ cold, Sir?"

"No, I snugglin' with you so I warm. Where's Mama go?"

"Mama had to go to work, there's a _very_ big snowstorm outside."

"Snow! Snow! Snow!" He jumps up, making Santana wince as his head knows into her breast, and scrambles to the window. "Oooh! My feets are cold!"

"Come here, buddy." Santana is reluctant to get out of bed, but she doesn't want him in the cold air with no socks on, so she gets up, grabbing the Columbia Pres fleece that Brittany left draped over the chair. "Guess what? We have no lights, so we're going to make a great big fire and a blanket fort!"

"A fart! A fart!"

"Liam, Liam." She laughs, scooping him up into her arms. "We're going to stay in our pajamas all day, but we need socks and sweatshirts too."

"Okey Mommy Noodle! I ready!"

Santana pats down Liam's cowlick, and kisses his forehead before she carries him into his bedroom, holding the wall so she doesn't trip in the darkness of the hallway. The house really has gotten cold, and she's not sure how much she should bundle him up. Coats seem a little excessive, and she's a _pediatric surgeon,_ she knows the cold won't make him sick, but still, as a mother, she worries about him freezing.

"My dinosaur snuggly shirt!" Liam cries out, diving beneath the quilt on his bed while she digs through his clothes. "'N my fire truck socks!"

"Coming right up." She smiles softly at him, watching his little head peek out. Zipping Brittany's fleece up higher, she takes out his things, and grabs his special skin lotion, before she sits down on the bedside him. "Okay, lotion first, Sir."

"Do you hands! Do you hands!"

"Of course." She squeezes lotion on her hands, rubbing them together to warm it up, before she puts them up under his shirt to smooth it over the puckered skin on his chest and arm. "Close your eyes, okay?"

"Okey!" He squeezes them shut, and she uses her thumbs to massage it into his face. "Now snuggly shirt!"

Once he has his sweatshirt and socks on, Santana gathers all of the blankets from his bed to bring downstairs. She buries him under them on the couch, and she tests that the lights are still out, before she kneels before the fireplace. She's never built a fire on her own before, but she's watched Brittany do it dozens of times, and she _thinks_ she can manage it.

With the flue open, certain she won't kill them both, Santana stacks up the wood, mirroring what Brittany always does. She feels Liam's eyes on her, and hears his little squeaks—he loves when there's a fire, sometimes to Brittany's great dismay, because he tries to get too close—and she lights the kindling paper on fire, waiting for the wood to catch. When it does, she breathes a sigh of relief, surprised she managed to do it, and she puts the safety guard up before looking back to Liam.

"Yay, Mommy Noodle! Yay! You maked it!"

"I did! Now we'll be toasty warm when we have breakfast."

"We have pancakes?"

"I think it's going to have to be a cereal morning, Sir. The stove doesn't work like the lights."

"Okey, we have Kix?"

"Kix sounds _great_ to me."

In the kitchen, Santana finds a cooler sitting on the counter, a note in Brittany's handwriting pinned to it. _Good Morning! I put the milk and yogurt on ice for you. If we keep the fridge closed, we'll probably salvage everything else when the power comes back on. Give Li a kiss for me. I love you, and see you soon._

Santana checks her phone with she pours the cereal. It's after nine, and she hasn't heard from Brittany in hours. She assumes that either Shelby hasn't made it in, or that it's such a mess in the pit that Brittany won't leave. If she didn't have Liam, she'd be on her way up to help, but peering at him in the living room, rolling Percy over the heap of blankets, she couldn't bundle him up and take him out in this even if she wanted to. It's intentional that she and Brittany don't schedule their on-call weekends at the same time, and now, keeping Liam safe and warm while a storm rages outside is the most important job she has.

After breakfast, Santana stokes the fire, and she moves the couches, folding blankets on the floor, laying out pillows, dragging Liam's bin of trains, and draping a big quilt over everything. Liam is beside himself, grabbing his little blanket and Percy and scrambling underneath. Santana lays down on the floor, and almost immediately, Liam's head is on her stomach, his dark eyes looking up at her.

"Hi Mommy Noodle! You in the fart!"

"I am, you think I was going to build it and not enjoy it with you?"

"I love you." He hugs her stomach, and still, still, it makes her heart race.

"I love you too, my Liam."

"And I love you both." Brittany's voice rings out, making Liam squeal, and Santana breathe a sigh of relief that she's _finally_ home safely.

"Mama! Mama! Mama! Mama! Come find us!"

"Where, oh where is my Liam? Where, oh where is my Santana?" She pops her head under the blanket, and Liam crawls over Santana to tug Brittany's hand and get her inside.

"A fire? A fort? It seems like I've been missing a _really_ fun day."

"I's freezin' in here, Mama! Mommy Noodle makeded us a fart!"

"She made you a fort, huh?" Brittany leans over and kisses Santana's lips. "That sounds pretty amazing."

"We got _all_ the trains!"

"I see that. Are you going to build a track?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Liam cries out, and immediately busies himself with the tracks.

"You look wiped." Santana brushes Brittany's hair from her face as she lays down beside her and pulls a blanket up to her chin.

"I am. It was a _long_ night."

"I can tell." She lifts up Brittany's hand to inspect her fingers. "I've never seen your fingers raw like this."

"I'm not sure how many stitches I did. The ambulance bay was open all night, and it feels like half the city came in with lacerations."

"Have you eaten anything?"

"A muffin and a bunch of coffee. I actually brought you a thermos from the hospital."

"Brittany Pierce, you went to work in a blizzard, did probably hundreds of stitches, and you _still thought to bring me coffee?"_

"Well I know how you are when you don't have any." Brittany laughs a little, then yawns. "You seem better today."

"I mean, I'm in a blanket fort with my two favorite people, so…"

"That's fair. I think I might nap in here for awhile, actually. Shelby's going to sleep in the on-call room tonight, so she said she'll try to keep me from having to come back in, but who knows."

"You can go nap in bed if you want, Britt. We're okay down here."

"No, I know that, but after feeling like my toes were going to freeze off for six hours, I think I'd rather keep warm under here."

"Okay." Santana kisses her lips, and looks over at Liam, who's trying to make two tracks fit on the wrong ends. "We'll be here when you get up."


	46. Chapter 46

The following Sunday, they leave for Boston. Santana has been a nervous wreck all week, and as she held Brittany load the car, she feels her knees weaken, and her head get light. It's stupid, she's well aware how stupid it is, but she can't shake her sense of dread about meeting with Adam Crawford tomorrow, she can't shake the twisting and turning in her stomach, threatening to make her vomit on I-95.

It's four-thirty in the morning, and Liam sleeps in his car seat behind Santana. She peers back at him, and can't help but smile at the way he rubs Percy against his face, the way his blanket is tucked up to his chin, the way he looks so completely peaceful back there. She didn't have a peaceful childhood, but every day, she's grateful that she gets to be the mother to a child who does. Every day, she reminds herself to remain calm, because she never wants him to see her in a frenzy.

Beside her, Brittany watches the road. It's flurrying, the roads are icy, and they know it will only get worse the further north they get, but Santana feels safe beside her wife. She's so careful, so responsible, and she knows that as she always does before a drive to Boston, the tires have been checked, the fluids have been filled, and there's a trunk full of emergency supplies, just in case. It's the type of security that Santana needs in her life, and if it wouldn't risk distracting Brittany, she'd reach over and grab her hand to squeeze.

It takes half the day to make it to the Pierces'. Liam wakes up in Connecticut, and is bubbly and giddy as he waits to be in Boston. Brittany always says he doesn't remember it much, them living there, but that he always seems to react to the city in a visceral way. He loves the cobblestone streets, the parks, the charm, different from that of New York, and especially, Brittany's parents. Sometimes Santana thinks that they might resent the fact that they see him less because of her— _they don't,_ Brittany promises over and over, _they love you_ —but she's glad that they're more than willing to take him overnight tonight, glad that she and Brittany will have some time together.

Once Liam is dropped off and settled with the Pierces, it's late in the afternoon, and Brittany and Santana head over to the Battery Wharf hotel. Brushing aside all thoughts of her doctor's appointment tomorrow, Santana gets dressed for dinner. When Brittany zips up the back of her dress, letting her hands linger on her shoulders, Santana smiles at her reflection in the mirror. If nothing else does, Brittany's presence serves as a confident booster, and she turns around, eager to kiss her lips.

"It's like a mini-honeymoon."

"Who would have thought we needed one, getting married in paradise?" Santana laughs. "Thank you for this, Britt. For all of it."

"It's not entirely selfless." She raises her eyebrows. "Since I have to go to Portland next week, and I'm working nights all this week, I wanted a little of you all to myself."

Santana just smiles in response, and lets her hair down. It doesn't take much longer before she's ready to go, and Brittany holds open her coat, allowing her to slip into it. They walk hand-in-hand down the snowy Boston streets, cold and red-nosed by the time they make it to the tiny Italian restaurant with a roaring fireplace.

"I love being in your city." Santana smiles over the glass of red wine that Brittany pours her. "How do you not miss this every day?"

"I did for awhile, but then you came along, so…I learned to love New York too?"

"Wow, you must have _really_ hated it back when I was such a bitch."

"I mean…" She bites back a smile. "I was just lonely, you know? Single in a new city with a two-year-old, and my whole support system a few hundred of miles away, it was hard."

"What made you do it? Like, take the job, I mean."

"I'd met Sue years back at a conference in Vegas. I was in my second year as an attending, and while everyone else was down at the casino, I was poring over my notes for my presentation the next day. She brought me a beer, told me I was going places, and I didn't hear from her again until Carl Howell was retiring, and she couldn't find anyone to take his place."

"She does that. I swear, I think she has files on every surgeon in America."

"She's an exceptional chief of surgery. Terrifying at times, but very good at her job. I said no to her four times. I was still reeling from my sister's death, from becoming a mother, and from a nasty breakup, but she just kept making me better offers. I could have worked for another decade at Brigham before I had the job I have now, and probably wouldn't be making close to my salary now. It was the most responsible choice to make. My mom convinced me that a new start would be good for me, and that Liam was still young enough that he'd adjust."

"It always impresses me, when I hear about your life. Jeeze, I'm so lucky that you actually fell in love with me."

"I feel the same about you, Santana." Brittany lifts Santana's hand and kisses the palm.

"I think I'll feel so much more settled after tomorrow. I might have a love of questions for you though."

"That's fine with me. You know I'm glad to talk anything through you that you need."

"Honestly, I just can't wait until it's all behind me. I want to decide if I'm going to have surgery, and I want to focus on getting ready to go before the judge about Liam, then start making _some_ kind of plan for our family."

"We're getting there. More than anything though, I want you well."

"I know. And I appreciate it."

They eat dinner, not mentioning the appointment again. When they finish, they head back to the hotel, and it's early when they get ready for bed. Nervous, and with a sour stomach from it, Santana isn't in any kind of mood for sex. She bites her lip sheepishly, looking at the nice hotel room, the night Brittany had planned for them, and she sighs.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asks, and Santana watches her settle beneath the covers in her flannel pajama bottoms and long sleeves.

"Just tired." She shrugs. "And my stomach is a little off."

"Do you want me to make you some tea? I think I saw a lemon teabag."

"No, it's fine, I mean, I just kind of want to go to bed. Sorry that we're like…whatever, we have a night alone, and I'm…"

"Are you apologizing that you don't feel like having sex tonight? Honey, I brought my comfy pajamas because I figured we'd just relax together."

"Most of your pjs are comfy." Santana sits down on the edge of the bed, inching closer to Brittany. "I'm actually kind of jealous."

"Do you want old lady pajamas for your birthday, Santana Lopez?" Brittany teases, as Santana takes her pills from their case, counting them on the nightstand.

"If I hadn't told you not to get me anything…"

"Says the woman who flew me to Mexico."

"We agreed that no longer counts as a birthday gift, since it became our _wedding._ "

"Either way, if I want to spring for some pajamas for you, I don't think it'll break the bank."

"I guess I could be okay with that." She swallows her pills, pulls up her hair, and crawls into bed, fitting herself under Brittany's chin.

"Movie?"

"I might make it through ten minutes, but yeah, go ahead and put one on."

Ten minutes is generous, and Santana falls asleep before Brittany even gets the movie going. When she wakes up, she knows she slept restfully, because she's still in the same place, listening to Brittany's heart beat in her chest.

For breakfast, Brittany takes them to a diner, and though Santana's stomach is still off, she manages to get down some oatmeal and three cups of coffee. They wander through the snow for awhile, Brittany picking up a new Red Sox jersey for Liam, a pair of sneakers to replace the ones he's growing out of, a new train to add to his collection. She's good about balancing his wants, her wants for him, and his needs, and Santana is slowly learning, avoiding the temptation to spoil her soon-to-be-legal son.

As time ticks closer to Santana's doctor's appointment, they go back to the hotel to check out and get the car. While Brittany drives through the city, Santana fidgets in the passenger's seat. She opens and closes the glove compartment, she picks her fingernails, she fiddles with the radio, all to take her mind off of the inevitable. She's going to meet with Adams Crawford. He's going to examine her in a place she's refused to be examined for over a decade—her OBGYN has tried to convince her otherwise, to no avail. She's going to have to make a decision about what she does next. It's all a lot, and when bile rises up in her throat as they get into the elevator, she sputters, trying to swallow it.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Santana shakes her head. "Fine."

In the waiting room, Santana shuts down. She appreciates the fact that Brittany doesn't try to talk to her, and she stares blankly at the sleek modern couch in front of her. Time ticks impossibly slow, and when the office door opens, she shudders. She stands, robotic almost, as Brittany hugs the lanky, well-coifed man who comes through.

"And you must be the missus." He grins, reaching out his hand. Something about his _Britishness_ makes him seem smarter, and Santana takes another deep breath. "Dr. Adam Crawford."

"Dr. Santana Lopez." She's stiff in her reply, wanting to be certain he knows she's a medical professional, just because it's the one thing she's always been entirely confident about. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Let's get inside and get started, shall we?"

Santana's skin crawls, looking at the trappings of a plastic surgeon's office. Brittany said that he specializes in reconstructive surgery, but still, the way it feels so posh so… _something_ makes her nervous, as she changes into the soft pink gown. When she's dressed, her knees shake a little as she sits down on the exam table and fills him in on her medical history. From across the room, Brittany offers her small, reassuring smiles, and even with everything going on, she tries to cling to that, she tries to think about what life will be like without the pain and anxiety her breasts bring her.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to have a look, and then go next door for an MRI to see just where the scar tissue is."

"It's probably mostly here." Santana thumbs over the sides of her breasts, the spots that cause her the most pain. "But yeah, that's fine."

Slowly, she undoes the front of the gown—obviously designed for this exact purpose—and she leans back on the table, closing her eyes, pretending this isn't the first time she's met one of her wife's friends, pretending she isn't putting the carnage on her chest on full display, pretending she's home with an eye pillow on, listening to Stevie Nicks while Brittany takes a shower. Adam's gloved hands are gentle on her, but still, she shivers and shudders, still, she winces in pain, still, she's mortified, because this sucks, it all sucks, and nothing she does can change the decision she made when she was a teenager.

Before she goes for the MRI, she gives Brittany her rings, and Brittany squeezes her hands before she slips them on her own finger. More than a little uncomfortable with confined spaces—and recalling the elevator incident, the _last_ claustrophobic experience that at least changed her life for the best—Santana lays down on the cold metal. Adam talks to her, as she positions herself, and again, Santana squeezes her eyes shut. She lays and she waits, listening to the low music that plays, and really, really wanting to go home.

When she's finished, the radiologist who did the MRI takes her into Adam's office, handing him the results. Adam and Brittany sit across from each other at the desk, and she shows off pictures of Liam. Santana feels bite rise in her throat again, but the moment she takes a seat, Brittany reaches over for her hand, sliding the rings back where they belong, and lacing their fingers together. Brittany is here, this is someone she trusts, and Santana should be able to breathe knowing that.

"So what are my options?" Santana asks bluntly. She doesn't care about beating around the bush. She wants to know the information she needs to make a decision, she wants to go get Liam, and she wants to go home.

"The MRI results pretty much conclude what I'd figured from my exam." He looks over them, and then back up at Santana. "I don't have to explain to you about scar tissue, so I'll just tell you that you have quite a bit, and it's understandable why you're in so much pain. We could try a conservative approach, and do a series of cortisone injections, or, since there's a lot of banding in your scar tissue, I'd recommend we do a scar revision. It'll almost certainly ease your discomfort much quicker than the cortisone, and you wouldn't have to worry about it coming back."

"And how much tissue would you take out?"

"I won't understate it for you, all in all, you'd probably lose a cup size. If implants are—"

"No." She cuts him off, shaking her head. "I'm not interested in implants in any form. I get that you're not a hack like like original surgeon, but I have no interest in going down that road again."

"That's absolutely fine." He nods. "I'm just laying out all that I can offer you. We can also talk about doing a nipple repair, if that's something your interested in."

"If I were to do that—" Santana takes a breath, looking over at Brittany. "And I chose to get pregnant and…eventually breastfeed, what sort of impact would that have?"

"As far as I can tell, your milk ducts are in tact. A nipple repair is neither here nor there, in terms of that, but depending on the pain you experience in the nipple, the repair could make it more comfortable for you."

"Okay. Okay." Santana shakes her head a little. "I just…need some time to process all of this. Do you have…I don't know, some paperwork on the procedures, or…? Sorry, I swear, I really am a surgeon, and not a blithering idiot."

"I hear you're an exceptional one." Adam gives her another one of his dimpled smiles. "I'm sorry I make you so nervous. I promise, once you don't have to deal with me as a doctor anymore, I'll make a really good impression on you. Well, no, actually, Elliot's the charming one, but just remember when we finally take you both out to dinner, he married me, so I'm half-decent. And of course, I'll make you a copy of your chart too, since you actually know what to do with it. Then we'll talk, and you can either tell me to piss off, or we'll make a plan."

Once the charts are copied, and Santana has a handful of literature, they go back to the car. It's still early enough in the afternoon that they can get Liam and avoid most of the rush hour traffic, and while Brittany drives, Santana shoves the folder in her purse, unable to even _think_ about looking at it until she's home. She needs to study every detail, she needs to _think,_ and she knows it's impossible for her to do that it the car.

Liam jumps into Santana's arms when they get to the house, and she spins him around, kissing his dark mop of a hair. Her son, her son, it still hits her every time she has him in her arms that it'll be legal soon, and every time, it makes everything in her future seem so much brighter. The Pierces are quick to say goodbye, knowing that they really need to get on the road, and it's Santana who buckles Liam into the warm car, Santana who gets to give him Kevin, the bright yellow crane who can roll with Percy along the edge of his car seat for the duration of the drive.

He's chatty in the car on her way home, and Santana is grateful for that. She's also grateful for Brittany's hand on her thigh, letting her know she's here, and she loves her, flaws and all. The snow has mostly cleared from the roads, and Santana knows that Brittany is far more relaxed than yesterday. Brittany laughs with Liam, she asks him questions about what he did when they weren't with him, and Santana gets to deal with the mess in her head. With the sounds of their voices though, Brittany's low, soothing tones, and Liam's high squeaky exuberance, it makes things less weighty to process, and Santana is glad for that.

The drive takes longer than they'd expected after an accident closes a portion of I-95, and in Connecticut, Brittany has to drive through a McDonald's to get dinner for Liam. For the first time in probably a decade, Santana eats chicken nuggets and French fries, sipping iced tea from a plastic cup. She passes back chicken and apple slices to Liam, every time he giggles for more, and she feeds Brittany forkfuls of her salad. It's so… _normal_ the sort of road trips she never took as a child, or as a young adult, passing around joints and drinking cheap beer in the backseat, and something about it puts her at ease when that seems hard to come by.

When they get home, Santana lays down with Liam for awhile. He's excited still from being in the car, and Brittany had a page from one of her attendants that she needs to deal with. So Santana stays with him until he calms down. She lets him play with her hair and burrow into her stomach. She watches him, smile creeping across her face, as he stares up at her, forcing his eyes to stay open.

"I misseded you, Mommy Noodle. I misseded you snugglin' and givin' me kissies."

"How's this?" Santana kisses the tip of his nose, this his forehead.

"Good kissies." He kisses her back, over and over. "I so happy you my Mommy Noodle."

"I'm happy I'm your Mommy Noodle too, Sir."

"And I happy Mama's my Mama and we had the weddin'."

"Sweet Liam." She kisses him again. "It's very, very late. Close your eyes."

"Then I no see you."

"That doesn't mean I'm not still here."

Liam finally falls asleep, and Santana tucks him under his blankets. She knows Brittany feels terrible that she had to deal with the hospital and couldn't lay down with him, so Santana leaves the door partially open for her, and goes down to the living room. Brittany had managed to light a fire, probably with one hand, while solving a crisis in the phone with the other, and Santana breathes in the woody smell while she opens the daunting folder from Adam.

The MRI images make her cringe, and she can't be certain if the increased pain in her breasts is a result of the long car ride, or a phantom pain from seeing the bands of scar tissue that exist within them. She knows what she has to do, she knows there's only one way to make the physical and emotional pain of it all more bearable, but like with anything else in her life, taking the plunge is what's so difficult.

"Hey." Brittany comes in through the kitchen, two cups of tea in her hands.

"Hi. He took forever to go down, but he's sleeping. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, remember that sternal reconstruction I did on Thursday?"

"The one where you wanted to keep him longer because you knew he wasn't going to take care of himself? Yes."

"That's the one. He's already got an infection and he was discharged Saturday. I think they have everything under control, but I had to check back in." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry I left you with bedtime, and to start going over this without me."

"No, no, it's fine. It's definitely weird though looking at these. I mean, how many times a day do I read MRIs, but.."

"It's different when it's you're own. I don't know exactly how you feel, but I know how it felt looking at Liam's."

"I think I need to do it, Britt. I'm a surgeon, if I was taking to my patient's family, I'd tell them they should."

"I know." She nods.

"I just…I know that this is going to be another exercise of learning to fit in my body."

"This time though, you won't be doing it alone."

"I know my breasts aren't anything special to look at now, but you won't care if this scarred mess is a B cup?"

"Santana, I don't love you for your breasts, or for your beautiful face. I love you because you're _you._ That's it. I want you to feel happy and whole, because I love you so deeply, and you make _me_ feel that way."

"I think I want to have him do the nipple reconstruction too. It's a small vanity…I don't know…"

"I think it'll be good for you, but just know that it won't make me love you any more, or any less."

"I appreciate that."

"Come here." Brittany opens her arms, and Santana falls into them. "I love you."

"I love you too. So much." She breathes Brittany in for a few moments. "Do you think you can take off work, when I do it?"

"It's not a question, not even close. As soon as you schedule a date, I'll talk to Sue. I'll be home until you're healed."

"I'm so, so lucky to have you."

"So am I, sweetheart. So am I."


	47. Chapter 47

It takes her a day to call Adam, but Santana schedules the surgery. It's ten days before Liam's birthday, and he assures her that she'll be up and able in time for the party that they've invited ten kids to. Santana is skeptical, but she's not the surgeon, she can't second guess anything that he says, or else she'll abandon the idea of having it completely.

It's a rough two weeks leading up to it. The first week, Brittany works nights, and they spend barely an hour a day together, mostly with Liam curled between them in bed. He seems to _always_ end up in bed with Santana when Brittany isn't home, and barring a few incidences where he wets through his pull-up and soaks the bed, Santana wouldn't have it any other way.

The next week, Brittany is in Portland. She's giving a series of lectures at the Oregon Health and Science University, and Santana isn't sure who misses her more, herself or Liam. But she FaceTimes them every night to read Liam his stories, and then she stays on with Santana until she falls asleep, knowing full well that she'd prefer not to take her Ambien when she's the only adult in charge. She sends Santana flowers, she sends Liam chocolate, and when they finally get to pick her back up at the airport, she squeezes them so tightly that Liam squeals.

Maribel offers to stay with Liam when Santana has her surgery. Santana hugs her for a long time, when they have lunch together, and she tells her everything that's going on, and her mother apologizes for everything she's gone through. Santana doesn't blame her mother, not at all. She was a victim of her ex-husband too, and difficult as it was, she did as much as she could to protect her daughter from the wrath of her father. It feels like healing, Santana thinks, and the relationship she's been rebuilding with Maribel is so important in the journey she's on.

They leave again for Boston on a Tuesday morning. Both Shelby and Chief Sylvester have been instrumental in making their absences from work for a week run more smoothly, and Santana sends them both cards to thank them for it. Everything falls into place, and though Santana's head is full of turmoil, the smoothness of the way the rest of her life is running makes it a little easier to bear.

By chance, they check into the same hotel room they'd been in weeks prior, and after Santana's late pre-op appointment at Brigham and Women's, she lays back on the bed, arm over her forehead, and a raging headache starting from her anxiety. Brittany is on the phone outside of the room, not wanting to disturb Santana, she'd said, and she breathes in and out, trying to calm herself down.

"Hey." She hears the door click open, and then a dip in the bed beside her. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay." Santana peers out from under the crook of her elbow, and looks up at Brittany, who sits cross legged just inches from her. "Was it the hospital?"

"It was actually Bernice, the receptionist at my lawyer's office. We got a date for the adoption hearing."

"Really?" She throws back her hand, and pushes herself up. "When?"

"Next Friday. Do you think you'll be up for it by then?"

"I'd go right from the hospital tomorrow, if I had to. So it's happening?"

"It's happening. Liam will be your legal son by next weekend."

"Wow." Santana leans into Brittany, pressing their foreheads together. "That's the kind of good news I needed to hear today."

"Good things are happening, Santana. I promise you, all the good things." Brittany kisses her softly. "You want to lay in my lap, and I'll give you a head massage."

"God, I love you."

Santana falls asleep like that, Brittany's hands on her head. She was reluctant to take her Ambien, afraid it would leave her groggy and miserable for her early check in time at the hospital, but the massage helps her sleep, Brittany's _presence_ helps her sleep. When the alarm goes off at four-fifteen, she actually feels mildly rested, and the first thing she feels is Brittany's lips on hers.

"I love you." Brittany whispers against her lips. "My beautiful wife."

They don't talk as they get ready. Santana showers with Dial soap, just like she tells her patients they should use, and she swallows her morning pill dry. She pulls on an oversized sweatshirt and leggings, and she hopes the zipper on her coat doesn't bother her sore chest when they come back to this room later. Maybe February is a terrible time to have surgery on her breasts—and particularly, her nipple, since she shudders to think how brutal the biting cold will be on _that_ —but she couldn't wait for summer. She has to do this now. It'll be done before she adopts Liam, it'll be done before she turns thirty-three, and she'll be able to feel like a _real_ adult, not someone reeling from the wounds of years past.

Santana walks at Brittany's side in the hospital that's so familiar to her wife. Brittany pushes the elevator button, and Santana knows she's pushed that same button thousands of times they walk together down the hallway of the floor Brittany used to work on, they pass the office that used to be hers. It's a strange feeling, knowing how well her wife knows this place, it's a strange feeling knowing that she'll be operated on a table that her wife has probably operating on hundreds of times, but she swallows it down, just wanting to get it over with.

Brittany stays with her through pre-op. She knows most of the nurses, and she waits for Santana's nod before introducing her to them. She can tell how adored Brittany was here, she can tell that they miss her presence, and it makes her smile, it makes her _relax_ know that she's in the hands of people who genuinely care for her wife.

When Adam comes in, he offers Brittany a spot in the gallery. They'd talked about this beforehand, and Brittany shakes her head. She'll wait as Santana's wife in the waiting room. She'll drink coffee and read one of the journals she'd packed in her briefcase, and she'll come into recovery when Santana gets out. That's what she needs, _that_ makes her feel much better than knowing she'd be watching the whole thing.

"Can I give you a kiss?" Brittany asks Santana before she leaves the room.

"Please." She nods in response, squeezing Brittany's hand one last time. She takes a breath, and closes her eyes, feeling Brittany's lips brush against hers. "I love you."

"I love you too, Santana. I'll see you when you wake up."

Adam jokes with Santana a little when they go into the OR, but she's not really capable of bantering back. She looks around the operating room, vision blurred without her contacts in. She imagines she's on the other end of her surgery, imagines she's tying her new Doc McStuffins scrub cap around her head, imagines she's at the sink scrubbing her hands, imagines the stinging snap as she slips into her gloves. She could prep for a surgery with her eyes closed, but instead, she's in far less comfortable territory, as she lays back on the table and closes her eyes, as the anesthesiologist puts the mask over her face.

Everything is fuzzy when she wakes up. Her medicated mind can't really put together where she is, and she looks around frantically, until she figures it out. There's so much pressure on her chest, and when she starts taking deep breaths to try to alleviate it, she's hit with a wave of nausea.

"Gonna throw up." She cries out, and before she can vomit all over the floor beside her bed, a nurse is there, holding a pan, and helping her lift her body just enough to vomit. "Ugh. Ow. Fuck."

"Here, how about we get you some water, Dr. Lopez?"

"I'm going to—" Santana doesn't get the words out fast enough, and she vomits again, bile stinging her throat as she does. "Fuck."

Once the nausea subsides, Santana sinks back into the crisp white sheets, and squeezes her eyes shut. Everything hurts, and it takes everything in her power not to cry. She's seen _children_ handle being in recovery better than she is, she's seen her own son, for that matter, but thinking about that only exacerbates the pain in her chest.

"Hey, you." Brittany enters the room and quickly comes to Santana's bedside, lifting the hand that has her IV in it, and rubbing the palm with her thumb. "How are you doing?"

"Peachy." She tries to laugh, but ends up choking, and then reaching for the pan to vomit again.

"Here, sweetheart." Brittany pulls her own hair loose, so she can gather Santana's up off her face. When she's finished, and Santana's vomiting has ceased, she takes the cup of water the nurse left by her bed and holds it to her lips. "Drink a little."

"I fucking hate anesthesia." She slurs, licking her dry lips. "And puking after chest surgery should be classified as torture."

"Lay back down, let me see if I can get you a lemon ice before Adam comes in."

"Just…stay." Santana's voice cracks as she looks into Brittany's eyes. "Please."

"Okay." She sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Santana as she strokes the loose strand of dark hair from her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

Santana closes her eyes, slowly inhaling and exhaling. When Adams Crawford comes in the room, she mumbles her responses, and she hopes Brittany is listening to him talk about how the surgery went. He knows they don't need to hear him talk about aftercare, they're _well_ aware of it, so he saves them the time of listening. Santana just wants to go. She wants to leave the hospital and get back into that hotel bed. She wants Brittany to lay down next to her and hold her hand for hours longer. She wants Brittany to _look,_ to tell her that it's okay. Adam may be her surgeon, but it's Brittany who she trusts the most.

Finally, she can go. The nurse wheels her outside, and Brittany helps her into the car, reclining the seat far enough back that Santana doesn't feel the pull of her breasts. She's in agony, but she bites her tongue. She'll take another pill when she gets to the hotel. She'll take an Ambien too, and maybe when she wakes up, she won't feel like someone has taken a saw to her chest.

Brittany helps her use the bathroom when they get up to their room. Santana is mortified by it, but Brittany's her wife, Brittany is a _surgeon,_ there's nothing she could see that would shock her. Then she helps her into bed. When she tucks Santana's pillow from home beneath her head, and Liam's soft blanket from the car over her, Santana feels an overwhelming surge of gratitude. This is nothing like her last surgery, nothing like it at all, and she falls asleep, knowing that she's safe, knowing that she's loved.

In the morning, Santana is still bandaged when Brittany helps her get back in the car to go home. She'd offered numerous times for them to stay another night, if Santana isn't ready for the long drive, but Santana refuses. As comfortable as Brittany made her in the hotel, she wants to be home, in her own bed. She wants to see Liam, and she wants to move on from this.

"Are you comfortable?" Brittany asks, getting in the driver's seat.

"Mmhm. Comfortable as I _can_ be. Thanks for bringing my pillow."

"I know you're particular about it." She puts her hand over Santana's, and smiles at her.

"Honestly, Britt, this surgery was in a whole different universe than my last two. I felt like the world would just swallow me up then, and maybe I wanted it to."

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to, Santana."

"I know, but it's you, and…I don't know, maybe I feel like I need to or something. I mean, it's like this _thing_ that hangs over my whole existence, so, maybe if I just talk about it, it'll help." Santana shakes her head, pressing the ice packs Brittany gave her a little higher up under her breasts. "I know that it was abuse. I'm a mandated reporter, and if I saw a sixteen-year-old kid at Columbia getting a boob job, I'd be on the phone with ACS and the surgical board in a second. But, whatever, no one there really cared, and…I was struggling with my sexuality, trying to get male attention. I was the first one in my school getting new tits, I wasn't exactly fighting it."

"Oh, Santana."

"I think…I think him and my mom must have had a fight about it, because two days before my surgery, she was suddenly going to Scottsdale to see my aunt. You didn't… _he_ didn't take no for an answer on things, so…I went to the hospital with him when he went to work, and he dumped me off at the plastics wing. His friend who I'd watch draw up my new boobs two weeks earlier was grinning at me while I got put under, and…when I woke up, I had silicone in my chest."

"Silicone?"

"I know. But do you really think the guy who did a boob job on a sixteen year old was suddenly going to care that he should have used saline because I was so young?"

"No, I just…" Brittany trails off, biting her lip and murmuring something about _first do no harm._

"My father worked a sixteen hour shift that day, so I laid in the recovery room by myself. I was in excruciating pain, but I refused to let myself cry. I went up to my room when I got home, and I couldn't even manage to go down and get new ice packs for myself. I was a _mess,_ but I knew exactly how he'd act if he saw me like that, so I shit up and dealt with it."

"I'm sorry." Brittany laces her fingers with Santana's, squeezing a little harder. "No one should have to go through that, especially not as a child."

"Honestly, Brittany, it was mild compared to the rest of my life." She shakes her head, trying to forget. "I went back to school a few days later, but my boobs weren't what I expected them to be at all. They still hurt like hell, and my nipple was hot to the touch. Now, as a doctor, I know I was exhibiting every sign of infection, but I kept ignoring it. It wasn't until I passed out during cheerleading practice that I finally confessed to my mother that I thought something was wrong with my boobs."

"How long after was that?"

"Sixty-one days. I was counting them, telling myself okay, at thirty days, they'll be better, at sixty days, at ninety days. It was 1999."

"So obviously you weren't checking your symptoms with your iPhone."

"Exactly. We had a computer in my father's office, and it wasn't like I was going to go in there and search the internet for answers. My mom took me to the emergency room, and I had a hundred and five fever. My nipple was so infected that I'm lucky I didn't go septic, and of course, because the implants were way too big for me, I had grade four capsular contracture. Even that asshole knew he had to take the implants out, but…" Santana shakes her head again, swallowing the lump in her throat. "He was so nasty to me, when he was asking questions about my bathing habits, and the kind of sex I was having…I felt so degraded that I _couldn't_ go back to get another surgery when it healed. I was _terrified._ Britt, until you, I couldn't even _look_ at a plastic surgeon."

"I understand that, Santana. My blood is boiling." She clenches the steering wheel with her left hand, and Santana watches her knuckles turn white. "It's doctors like that who make a mockery of what I've worked my whole life to accomplish. His license should be stripped, and he should be in prison."

"Well." Santana forces out a laugh, but it sounds more like a hiccup. "If you count a multi-million dollar mansion in Boca as prison, he's there."

"Of course he is. You deserved so much better than that."

"You've shown me that, Britt. You…just loving me as I am, it's shown me so much more than I thought was real. Even… _especially_ yesterday, the way you took care of me afterwards…"

"I'm always going to take care of you. I promise you that, and I'm always going to love you."

"I know." She nods, shifting a little from the discomfort in her chest. "I think…even from that time I walked into your office like a lunatic and lifted up my shirt, I knew on some level. I'd been hiding what happened for so long, hooking up with my shirt on, padding my bra, but then you came along, and as much as you made me crazy, you didn't…I don't know, I didn't feel _threatened_ by you. You had Liam, and I watched you with the Martinez girls, and…I knew you were different. I didn't treat you like it, but…"

"Santana, I get it. When that's your experience with my field, I _get_ it."

"I know you do…I just wanted to tell you."

"I appreciate that, a lot."

"Will you look later…at my breasts?" Santana looks down at her lap. "I know it's not sexy, and…you already have to look at them all the time, and they're…whatever…but…."

"I just need to set the record straight." Brittany glances from the road, and over at Santana. "I think that you're incredibly sexy. Your breasts have _never_ turned me off, okay? And they won't start now. Of _course_ I'll look at them later, I'll look at them like a doctor, and like a concerned wife who wants to make sure you're okay, and then, the next time I make love to you, I'll still think that they're incredibly sexy, that _you're_ incredibly sexy. I know you're insecure about them, I feel you flinch whenever I lave attention on them, but I love them, and I love you."

"Britt?"

"Yes."

"I still don't know why you're like this."

"I know, but I'll keep showing you that I am, okay?"

"Yeah…I'd like that a lot."


	48. Chapter 48

It takes four days before Santana will look at her own breasts. Their first night back at home, after careful cuddles with Liam, and a _lot_ of icing, Santana asks Brittany again to look at them, and she does. She removes the bandages so gently, so lovingly, and she checks the incisions, checks if all, assuring Santana that it looks good. But Santana can't bring herself to do it right away. She fights with herself, wanting to know, but not wanting to see, wanting to see, not wanting to know, like some sort of deranged seesaw.

When she finally brings herself to look, Brittany is downstairs with Liam. Given the amount of painkillers she's been taking, Santana has been sleeping a lot, but when she gets up to go to the bathroom, she stands in front of the mirror, contemplating lifting up her shirt. She does it slowly, so slowly. Her nipple is covered with a fresh gauze pad, and the undersides of her breast are still taped up. Carefully, she cups her breasts, feeling the weight change in her hands, watching her fingers splay out over the remaining scars, pulled taught by the removal of the extra skin. Carefully, she pulls back the gauze on her nipple, gasping at the swelling, gasping again at the _wholeness_ of it. Tears prick the back of her throat, but she pushes them down, hiccuping a little. She didn't have surgery for aesthetic purposes, but for the first time in sixteen years, she doesn't feel disgusted looking in the mirror. They're certainly not _normal,_ by any means, but they're not…hideous.

After the first days of laying in bed, Santana eases back into her daily routine at home. She cooks dinner with Brittany, she does bed time with Liam, she goes over all the court paperwork, and she gets ready for her motherhood to become a legal reality.

They wait to tell Liam until the morning of their hearing. They'd discussed it, and figured it would be better to do it that way. To him, Santana is already his Mommy Noodle, to him, a piece of paper means nothing. But to Santana, and to Brittany too, it means a lot. It means if anything happens to Brittany—universe forbid—no one can take Santana's son away. It means Santana can get him medical attention, it means she can make decisions for him, it means that her parenthood is preserved always.

Carefully, Santana lays out Liam's clothes as Brittany gives him a bath. She's not quite well enough to bathe him herself yet—the bending and lifting is too painful—but she wants to be part of getting it ready. So she smooths out his little khaki pants, his deep red shirt, his tiny suspenders and blue tie. She takes his good shoes from the closet, and she sets them besides everything else. Her stomach flip flops with excitement, her fingers ghost over his collar, and she smiles, thinking this little boy she loves, all dressed up for such a big occasion.

"Mommy Noodle! I taked a bath in the morning!" He runs into the bedroom naked and giggling. "Smell me! I smell yummy! Like choc'late!"

"Mmm." Santana bends to smell his hair, wincing a little at the tightness on her sides. "You _do_ smell like chocolate. C'mere, let's get you dressed, okay?"

"Okey! Where we goin' today?"

"Somewhere very special." Brittany steps into the room holding Liam's towel. "Remember how me and Mommy Noodle got married?"

"Yeah! We havin' a new weddin'?"

"No." She laughs, lifting him up in the towel to finish drying his hair. "But it's a little bit like that. We're going to go to what's called a hearing."

"You silly, Mama, I already hear good!" He pulls on his ear and giggles again.

"You do, buddy." Brittany kisses his head. "But this is something very different."

"We're going to—" Santana starts, and looks to Brittany, who nods. "We're going to see a lady who's going to tell us that I get to be your Mommy Noodle forever."

"Mommy Noodle, you silly! You already _is_ Mommy Noodle!"

"That's true, I am? But you know what?"

"What?" He reaches out to play with her hair, and she leans in, wishing she could lift him up.

"The judge, the lady we're going to see, doesn't know that yet. She still thinks I'm only Doctor Santana, and we need to talk to her."

"I tell her you my Mommy Noodle, and I Sir! She silly!"

"I'd love that a lot, Sir." She kisses between his eyes. "We're going to get dressed up really nice, and then after, we're going to have dinner with Gramma and Grampa, and my mama too."

"Gramma and Grampa and Mari-bel! Okey! Le's go!"

As Santana dresses Liam, buttoning up his shirt, and tying his tie, she feels Brittany's eyes on her, she feels Brittany's smile, she feels her love, beaming from her. Once he's ready, he comes into their bedroom with them, and he sits on the floor, playing with his trains, while they get dressed. Santana slips into a loose fitting black dress, not wanting to irritate her breasts, and wanting to look more…mom-like. She stands at the mirror, straightening her hair, and she steals glances with Brittany, who slides into a gray pencil skirt and blue blouse, glasses on top of her head.

They take a cab downtown to family court. There's still snow everywhere, and finding parking will be a nightmare. Liam is nestled between them, peering out from over his scarf, and rolling Percy up Santana's leg. Her stomach rolls, her heart hammers, but it's all in the best possible way. They're doing this, they're really doing it.

Her mom and Brittany's parents are already at the courthouse when they get there. Maribel grins and kisses Santana's cheeks, while Whitney squeezes her hands and reminds her with nothing more than a smile of the conversation they had in Mexico. They don't need the support, not legally, but having them al here makes Santana feel so much more secure, it makes her feel like the judge can _see_ what kind of family they have, how Santana adds to his life, how she loves him, and her mother loves him, so dearly.

They sit down beside Brittany's attorney—or, rather, _their_ attorney. Liam wiggles in his seat, and Santana takes crayons from her purse, taping a coloring page from the table. It's a trick she learned, since he struggles to hold it, even still, with his right hand, and Liam's eyes light up, dragging the pink crayon across the page.

"Mama, I tell her now?"

"Not yet, Li." Brittany whisper-laughs, hugging him to her side. "I'm going to talk to her, and then Mommy Noodle, okay?"

"Okey! I give her my pitcher?"

"I think she might like that a lot."

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Scanlon." The bailiff announces, and Santana takes her eyes off of Liam to look forward. Behind her back, Brittany grabs her hand, and she squeezes it tight.

Santana knows it isn't like the movies. She knows there's no cross-examining, or intense questioning, she knows that the judge has already reviewed their paperwork, that they'll just give a statement, that they'll agree to raise Liam together, and request a new birth certificate, nothing too intense, but still, her knees still buckle a little in anticipation of it all.

"Dr. Lopez, Dr. Pierce, Liam Pierce, please approach the bench."

"I got a seat, Mommy Noodle." Liam whispers. "I no need a new one."

"It's a different kind of bench, Sir, we don't have to sit. We're going to stand up and talk to Judge Scanlon now, okay?"

"Okey! I need my pitcher!"

"Here we go." Santana quickly takes it off and hands it to him, stepping out when Brittany pushes her chair in.

"State your names for the court." Judge Scanlon tells them, when they've reached the bench.

"Dr. Santana Maria Lopez."

"Dr. Brittany Susan Pierce, and my son, Liam Connolly Pierce."

"That's me! Liam! And I made you a pitcher!"

"You made me a picture, huh?" Judge Scanlon leans over the bench and accepts the pink tiger that Liam hands over to her. "Well thank you. Now I'm going to ask a few questions to your moms, alright?"

"And then I tell you this is my Mommy Noodle?" He hugs Santana's leg, beaming. "She not Doccer Santana no more."

"Thank you for telling me that, Liam. It's very helpful." She smiles. "Now, Dr. Pierce, your intention is to allow for the second parent adoption of Liam by Dr. Lopez?"

"Yes it is, your honor." Brittany nods. "She and I were married last month, and she's an active mother figure to my Liam."

"And you understand that a legal adoption means you share equal legal, medical and financial responsibility and decision making about Liam with Dr. Lopez, even if your marriage should end."

"Yes, your honor, I understand that."

"Now, I have to ask, because there's record of a kinship adoption in the paperwork you sent me. You adopted Liam yourself in 2014?"

"Yes, your honor. My sister and her husband left custody of Liam to me when they passed away. I chose to adopt him, rather than simply continue legal guardianship."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Dr. Pierce."

"Thank you, your honor." Brittany nods. "But I consider myself very lucky that I have Liam, and I know my sister would be thrilled to see a mother like Santana in his life."

"Dr. Lopez." Santana steps a little closer at the sound of her name, and wrings her hands in front of her. "Do you understand the responsibilities of adopting Liam Pierce? That you will be equally responsible for his heath and well being, his financial, educational, and emotional needs, regardless of your relationship with Dr. Pierce?"

"Yes, your honor." Santana looks down at Liam, gaping up at the American flags that hang above the bench. "I understand completely."

"And you believe yourself capable of fulfilling those obligations, as well as providing love and emotional stability for him?"

"I do, your honor."

"And are you seeking a name change on his behalf?"

"Oh…I…" Santana turns to face Brittany. "No, I don't think so."

"Excuse me, your honor." Brittany looks back at Judge Scanlon. "I'm sorry to take advantage of your time, but can we have a moment?"

"Go ahead." She nods, and Brittany steps back, gesturing for Santana to come closer.

"Santana, is that something you want?"

"Wait, what?"

"Do you want to hyphenate his name? I know we decided to keep our own names, but that doesn't mean Liam shouldn't have yours too."

"Britt, I can't ask you to do that, I mean…"

"You're not asking me, I'm asking you. Can we give our son your last name?"

"I…really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Okay…yeah. Yeah, I'd love that."

"Good." Brittany grabs Santana's hand and kisses the back of it, before stepping back in front of the bench. "Your honor, I'd like to request a name change to include Santana's."

"Alright then, I'll have you fill out another form to submit with the request for a new birth certificate." She writes something down, and Liam stands up on his tiptoes, not completely aware of what's happening, but interested, nonetheless. "Dr. Santana Lopez, your petition to adopt minor child Liam Connolly Pierce is granted."

"Oh my God." Santana covers her mouth. She's not surprised, she knew this was just a formality, but still, it takes her breath away.

"Liam." Judge Scanlon looks over the bench at Liam, holding up her gavel. "Would you like to bang this for me?"

"Yes! Yes! I do it!"

"Okay, Li." Brittany beams, lifting him up, here you go."

Liam debates what hand to use, and takes it with his right one first, trying to wrap his fingers tightly, before, switching to his stronger hand. He giggles with glee as he hammers it hard, and he wraps his little arms around Santana when he's done. Santana hugs him back, as tight as she can without hurting herself, and Brittany leans in to kiss her lips, as they both shed tears. Her wife, her _son._

"I telleded her you my Mommy Noodle, and I bangded the hammer!"

"You did, Sir." Santana kisses his face over and over. "And you did a great job."


	49. Chapter 49

Things calm down. It's an uneasy sort of feeling for Santana, when all is quiet, like something else must be coming, but she forces herself to accept that maybe it won't. Maybe she's settled now, maybe she's married, her surgery is done, she's legally adopted Liam, she's back at work, and she can take a breath.

It's Friday, after all, and it's date night, the first date night they've had time for since Santana's surgery, and, well, it's the first day that Santana feels like she's healed enough to be intimate with her wife. Needless to say, she's nervous, even though they decided just to stay in and order sushi after Liam goes to bed, rather than go out. On her lunch break yesterday—channeling her old self, from she and Brittany's first date—Santana snuck out of the hospital and went bra shopping. She needed something that fit her and wasn't a sports bra, like she's been wearing for two weeks, and she needed something that made her feel desirable.

Before work, Santana takes extra time in the shower. She shaves, slowly, and careful not to miss a spot. She moisturizers, hoping that her winter dry skin will calm down. She tweezes her eyebrows, and she checks her breasts in the mirror. She feels good, really good, and she's glad it's date night…if she can finish her impossibly exhausting workday.

Santana spends the first part of her morning in the pit. Puckerman is on her service, and by 9:45, she wants to kill him. She thinks that he's physically incapable of _not_ leering at her, of not pissing her off with his snide comments toward patients, or about pediatrics in general. He hates being on her service, that's clear, but Santana knows, without a shadow of doubt, that she hates having _him_ even more.

When her eleven o'clock fundoplication arrives, Santana yanks Puckerman away from flirting with a nurse, and refuses to make eye contact with him in the elevator up to her floor. She glares at him as they walk down the hall, and when the arrive at pre-op, she lets him have it outside the door, warning him that he's not to say a single word to the patient or his family, that he's here to assist, and to learn, not to open his goddamn mouth. It probably doesn't matter, he'll probably do whatever he wants, but if Santana _doesn't_ say it, she'll lose her damn mind.

"Amir, Giancarlo, good morning." Santana smiles at the two men in the waiting room, then looks down at the sleeping one-year old in his father Giancarlo's arms. "And you, Julian, who might not like me very much this time, after I have to wake you up, an extra good morning."

"Dr. Lopez, we are _so_ glad the day is here." Amir presses the back of his hand to his forehead. "Last night, I got into Julian's crib with him, just so I could prop him up on my body."

"I told him to bring him into bed with us." Giancarlo pinches his husband's arm playfully. "But someone insisted on being extra cute."

"Well," Santana laughs, shooting a glance at Puckerman, who is stealing a glance at his phone in his pocket. "Good news for all of you is that you won't have to do that anymore to help with his reflux, you'll see the results really quickly with this."

"Oh, we trust you, we went to five different surgeons before you, and we know you're the best." Amir nods emphatically, punctuating his words. "We only want the best hands on Julian."

"I can assure you that will be the case. And I'll have Dr. Rose, who you met last time, and Dr. Puckerman in the OR with me. Dr. Puckerman," She narrowly avoids snapping at him, "Meet Mr. Khan, and Mr. Corcetti."

—

"Oh, hey." Puckerman reaches out to shake their hands. "Noah Puckerman. And yeah, Lopez is totally the best."

"This _hospital_ is the best." Santana corrects, gritting her teeth. She wants to poke Puckerman's spine to make him stand up straight, but instead, she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands. "He'll be well taken care of."

"I believe you entirely." Amir nods, and Santana gets down on one knee to look at the sleeping Julian.

"He looks like my son, sleeping with his hand on his face like that." She smiles, picturing Liam, and honestly, since she adopted him legally, just wanting to say the words _my son_ as often as possible.

"How old is he?" Giancarlo asks. "And did he have reflux?"

"He'll be four in a few months. I don't believe he had reflux though, but I'll ask my wife. I didn't meet him until just before his third birthday." She smiles a little, remembering. "His mother and I were colleagues, and Liam took a liking to me and invited me to his birthday party."

"Well that obviously worked out well." He laughs, then turns to Amir. "Told you she was one of us."

"Quit being rude." Amir rolls his eyes, and gives Santana an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about him."

"It's totally fine." She laughs, at ease with them. "Can I ask you to wake him up? I'd say you could keep him down, but I do need to see that he's alert before we give him the pre-surgical sedative."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Amir ruffles Julian's hair. "Julesy, sleepy boy, it's time to wake up now."

There's a certain sort of fondness Santana feels toward little boys now, one she hadn't experienced until she had one of her own, and when Julian wakes up, he takes quickly to her. He only fusses a little as she holds the breathing mask to his face, letting him go limp again, but still awake, before his fathers kiss him goodbye, and transport moves him to the operating room.

While Tina—she'd _specifically_ requested Tina as the anesthesiologist on this one—puts Julian under, Santana scrubs in. She hates how irritated she is in Puckerman's presence, but she ignores him as he scrubs at the sink beside her. Once her Thomas scrubcap is on her head, and her gloves are snapped tightly on, she goes into the operating room, waiting for Puckerman to catch up.

"Alright." She talks to no one in particular, over the sound of her Stevie Nicks on the sound system. "Let's get this stomach fixed up."

"I still don't really get it." Puckerman chimes in, leaning over as Santana makes her first incision. "Isn't he kinda young for this? Don't you usually give a kid Prilosec or something?"

"Wow." Santana rolls her eyes. "You know what, I never thought of that. Tina, wake him up, I'm going to run over to Walgreens to grab some Tums."

"Alright, alright, I'm just saying, I've never heard of a fundoplication on a one-year-old."

"Which means you obviously pay very little attention to the American Board of Pediatrics. This is the tenth I've done in six months, and no, Julian doesn't just have a little heartburn. He's suffered from vomiting, trouble breathing, and pneumonia as a result of his GER. The procedure is more common in children than adults, and it's ten times harder to perform. So, I suggest if you have nothing meaningful to add to my operating room, you keep your mouth shut."

"Jeeze Lopez, chill. Are you on your period or something?"

"Puckerman." Santana clenches her teeth, not tearing her focus away from her patient, but turning her voice to ice. "I have thrown you off my service once, and I'm not afraid to do it again. First of all, it's _Doctor_ Lopez, and second, is this a habit of yours, asking your attendings about their menstrual cycles?"

"If you're going to throw me off your service, can you send me to plastics again?"

"Oh, so _that's_ what this is about? You think you act like this and you get to skip out on Peds? You think my specialty is a joke? You think I hand out lollipops and balloons all day and sprinkle pixie dust around this floor? Have you ever assisted on a fundoplication on a general rotation? Look at your fist."

"Huh?"

"I said look at your fist, Dr. Puckerman." She orders, and though she doesn't look at him, she knows that he does. "Now look at Julian's fist. I know for a fact you have _never_ acted this was in Dr. Hummel's operating room, and yet, here I am, doing the same procedure on a stomach half the size. You think my specialty is some kind of joke, and yet it took me years longer to become an attending surgeon in this hospital than had I chosen another specialty. I've done more surgeries than you could _imagine,_ so no, I'm not going to send you down to reward you with sticking you on Dr. Pierce's service, you're going to shut your damn mouth, and you're going to watch me fix this little boy's stomach. If you can't do that, then you can go up to Chief Sylvester's office and tell her that you want to know whether I have my period or not. See what she thinks of that."

Santana bites her tongue, and she goes back to work on her procedure. Tina meets her eyes across the table, and gives her a silent clap, making Santana _especially_ glad that she'd requested her today. The surgery takes Santana a little longer than it normally would, but Puckerman remains silent, attentive even, as she works carefully on this little boy's stomach.

When she's finished, Giancarlo and Amir hug her, and she leaves to go take a shower. This was the longest surgery she'd performed since she's been back to work, and she's not sure if the sheen of sweat on her body is because of that, or because of her confrontation with Puckerman, but either way, she feels an urge to get clean. She wants to put on her new lingerie, and a nice outfit, she wants to feel _sexy_ for her wife tonight. She wants to feel sexy for _herself._

Brittany already has Liam when Santana finishes, and when she sees her son, Santana squeezes him tightly, glad that she _can_ after a few weeks of having to avoid it. He giggles and kisses her, and she breathes him in, so glad they decided to stay in for date night tonight, so glad that she doesn't have to leave this face with a sitter.

They sit with Liam while he eats his macaroni and cheese. He talks endlessly about his day, and Brittany squeezes Santana's hand on the table. Even though she's only known him part of his life, Santana feels like he's growing up so fast. _too_ fast, and it continues to churn the thoughts in her head that she wants to start trying to have a baby soon. She wants to experience this with Brittany, she wants to witness everything, not just in pictures and stories, and she wants to do it before it's too late.

While Brittany calls and orders sushi, Santana lights candles and takes out a bottle of wine. There's a certain jitteriness to Santana's actions, and even as they eat, she finds herself unable to calm down. Maybe it's the day she's had, or maybe it's the anticipation of finally being intimate with her wife again, she can't be sure.

"You're quiet tonight, Santana." Brittany notices, sliding a piece of sashimi onto her plate.

"Sorry, long day at work, coupled with Puckerman on my service, which makes it doubly long."

"That bad again?"

"Perpetually. I mean, it's fine, I shut him down today and then kicked ass on that fundoplication, so." Santana lets out a long breath and pops a spicy tuna roll into her mouth. "Anyway, how was _your_ day?"

"Good, nothing unusual. I'm glad we're both off this weekend though."

"Seriously. Now that I'm healed enough to be a _person,_ maybe we can finally take Liam to the Transit Museum."

"That would be the best day of his life. We never have to take him to Disney World, his own personal Disney is right here in this city."

"Maybe we should do it tomorrow then. It's supposed to ice at night, but we should be able to sneak in a few hours."

"That sounds really good." Brittany puts her hand over Santana's. "I'm so happy you're my wife."

"Britt…"

"I love doing things as a family so much, Santana, really. I love that you're his Mommy Noodle, and seeing how much you love him."

"I do too. I can tell you that I _never_ thought going to the Transit Museum would be the best Saturday of the month, but…"

"Being a mother is weird, isn't it?"

"Seriously so weird. But, good weird."

"Yeah, the best kind of weird."

They make a plan while they finish dinner, and then they end up bringing their wine and candles up to the bedroom. Again, Santana gets that nervous fluttering in her stomach, and she lays on her side, watching Brittany flip through the channels to put a movie on. She knows that Brittany won't initiate anything tonight, she knows that she's waiting for _Santana_ to be ready to initiate sex post-surgery, and so Santana swallows hard watching her wife change out of her work clothes and into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

When Brittany lays on the bed beside her, Santana trails her fingers up her side, feeling the soft fabric of her shirt between her fingertips. In return, Brittany plays with Santana's hair, stroking it, twirling it, kissing the top of it. Quickly, Santana sucks in air, and she looks up, staring into Brittany's eyes, before she takes her wife's hand and slides it up her shirt, guiding it to cup her lace covered breast.

"Kiss me, Britt." Santana murmurs, arching her back so get the full effect of Brittany's hand on her breast.

"Always." She presses her lips to Santana's, and swings her leg over so she's lying partially on top of her. "Good?"

"So good."

"Is this a new bra?"

"You can tell it's new just by feeling it?" Santana laughs a little, and Brittany kisses her chin.

"Maybe. I happen to be an expert in your underwear."

"Mmm. Going to pursue another certification?"

"I'm not sure I'd want to go before the Board for this one." Brittany hums into the hollow of Santana's throat, and she drops her head back, reveling in the feeling of Brittany's lips on her. The playfulness, the laughing, the kisses, this is exactly what she needs to feel comfortable right now. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Tell me if anything is too much. I don't want to hurt you."

"'S okay. I feel good."

"We too. I always feel good when I'm touching you. But—"

"I promise I'll tell you." Santana meets Brittany's eyes. "I don't want to talk about surgical incisions, but I promise, they're healed enough for this. And I feel good about it."

"That's all I need to hear." Brittany brings her other hand under Santana's shirt, continuing to kiss her. "Can I take this off?"

"Mhmm, please."

Tenderly, so tenderly, Brittany slides Santana's shirt up over her head. This isn't the first time Brittany has seen her breasts since the surgery, she's seen them several times, checking them for Santana, since it's more convenient than going back up to Boston, but still, it's the first time she's seen them like _this._ It's the first time she's seen them as Santana's wife, not as a medical professional. Santana watches as Brittany takes them in, peeking out from over the cups of her bra. They're smaller, they're noticeably smaller, and there's still some lingering purple bruises, and they're certainly still scarred, but Santana feels Brittany suck in a breath, Santana stares as Brittany's eyes darken a little. Santana feels beautiful, as Brittany lowers her head to kiss the very tops of them.

"You're gorgeous." She murmurs into Santana's skin. "Still so gorgeous."

"So are you." Santana cups Brittany's cheeks, pulling her back into a kiss. "Thank you for loving me."

"I'll always love you, Santana, always, always."

"I know." She blinks back tears in her eyes. "Me too."

Brittany pulls her own shirt over her head, and unclaps her own bra, before she turns her attention back to Santana. She slowly removes her bra, and Santana watches her place tender kisses on the scarred skin. Her heart leaps, amazed that this is real, amazed with herself that she had the surgery, amazed that she has a wife who adores her so much. Spurred by that love, Santana rolls on top of Brittany, and kisses her for along while, before sliding down, down, down.

She leans up on her elbows to look into Brittany's eyes, and she takes the drawstring of her pants between her fingers. Brittany presses her palm to the side of Santana's face, and every time she finds herself in this position, she's astounded by the reverence Brittany shows her. She's astounded by the depth of the love in her eyes.

Santana makes love to Brittany slowly. There's no desperation in her motions as she slides Brittany's pants down her legs, as spreads them apart, as she laves attention on the insides of her smiles. There's no desperation as she wets her lips and licks through Brittany's center. It's slow, but it's intense, and Santana never loses that eye contact with her wife. Not as she pleasures her, not as Brittany's thighs quiver around her ears, not as her sex twitches and jumps.

She just wants to show her how much she adores her. She wants to take her time, so enjoy the intimacy that she missed so greatly. When she finally comes, Santana reaches up and grabs her hand, she squeezes it tightly, and she takes in every pant and gasp, every second of the sight before her. They're married, they have sex regularly, but sometimes, it just feels more intimate than others. Tonight is one of those nights. Tonight is the kind of night where Santana crawls back up Brittany's body and she squeezes her so tightly, she kisses her lips over and over, and she feels so _complete._

"What?" Santana asks, feeling Brittany look so deeply into her eyes.

"I'm just looking at you for awhile, before I get my strength back."

"Mmm, no, stay. I'm good like this. Just want to lay with you now." She rests her head on Brittany's chest, runs her fingers up and down her side and is quiet for a long time.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Honestly?"

"No." Brittany teases. "I want you to lie to me."

"Never." Santana laughs, kissing Brittany's chin. "Mostly how I was worried I'd regret having surgery, and that I'd feel uncomfortable in my own body afterward, but I don't. Now that I'm not just laying in bed, or laying around the house, I've gone to work, and held my kid, and made love to my wife, I can be totally sure when I say that this is more comfortable than I can ever remember feeling."

"I can see it in your face, Santana, and I love that. It's been such a good few weeks"

"It's been a good _year_ already. And I just, I don't know, I have a feeling it's going to get even better."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Definitely."


	50. Chapter 50

Brittany wants to have a dinner party. The notion shocks Santana, since she's not exactly the _dinner party_ sort of person, but when Brittany makes the point that their lack of a wedding means they've never actually had their friends in the same room, she sort of…gets it. And besides, given how busy her life has been, she hasn't exactly made time for her friends, so a dinner party doesn't sound like the _worst_ idea.

So they plan it. Santana invites Kurt and Dave, Mercedes and Evans, and Brittany invites Artie and his daughter, and Adam and Elliot from Boston, though she knows they won't be able to make it. Much to her surprise, as they start talking about what to serve, Santana finds herself _giddy._ It's lame, probably, and the _her_ of a year ago would have made fun of herself if she could see her now in her domestic glory, but she's happy. She's the happiest she's ever been in her life, without a doubt, and all she wants is to continue to embrace this, all she wants is to feel this way for as long as she can.

Santana works an overnight shift the night before their dinner. She hadn't planned on doing it, but Shelby had a family emergency, and Santana knows that she's the first person she comes to on the rare occasion that she needs someone to take over. Certainly, she sees it as a compliment, especially considering how much younger she is than some of the other peds surgeons, and deep in her mind, she wonders what that could mean someday when Shelby retires. It's daunting, sure, the idea that she could ever be a department head, but considering she's spent the last two weeks considering when she should tell Brittany that she scheduled an OB/GYN appointment _just_ to see how her uterus is looking, she thinks maybe there's nothing too big for her to ever take on.

"Heyward!" Santana calls out, as she walks into the pit in response to a page. "Are you on the peds patient?"

"I am, Dr. Lopez." Hayward scrambles for her charts. "Fifteen month male, open fracture of the ulna, possible concussion."

"Abuse?"

"ACS is on it, but I don't think so, it's pretty consistent with falling out of a crib."

"Who's on from ortho?" Santana asks, taking the chart from Heyward.

"Dr. Anderson."

"Ugh." Santana can't control her displeasure at the thought of working with Kurt's ex, and Jane stifles a giggle. "Did you page him?"

"I did, he's finishing up a surgery, and then he's coming down here. I ordered the patient a sedative in the meantime."

"Okay." Santana nods. "Good, let me see him."

Santana follows Heyward back through the emergency room, and behind the curtain. A woman around her own age is curled up on the cot beside her sedated son, and over his head, she weeps. Something about it causes a pang in Santana's chest, and she twists her ponytail between her fingers as she scans the chart one last time.

Just as she opens her mouth to speak, Blaine Anderson rips open the curtain behind her, and steps in, as self-important as he usually is. Rather than have an argument with him—since they've had more than their share, both personally and professionally—she lets him talk to the patient's mother, she lets him be in charge. Though she's loath to admit it, he's an exceptional orthopedic surgeon, and while she'd groan at his arrogance the whole time, of it were her son, she'd want him to treat him.

Once they settle on sending Kris Anwar into surgery, Santana ties her rings into the drawstring of her scrubs, and she leans over the sink, scrubbing up her arms. She's just about finished when Blaine comes into the scrub room, and it takes her a minute, but she gives him a tight smile.

"Heard you got married." He talks to her over the rushing water of the sink, and she nods.

"January."

"To Pierce, right? Doesn't she have a kid?"

" _We_ have a kid." She corrects. "And before you say anything, yeah, I'm aware that I said I never wanted to have kids back when I used to be forced into your company all the time, shit changes."

"Hey, easy, I wasn't going to say anything, Santana. I'm glad you found happiness, everyone deserves that."

"That's…oddly…nice?" Santana's tone is questioning, and Blaine huffs.

"I never wasn't _nice_ to you."

"Uh, you think I forgot when we were interns? You had your head so far up every attending's ass, that I was sure you were gelling your hair with stomach acid—"

"That's disgusting."

"Also true, and you stole every other surgery out from under me, so yeah…whatever, I'm over it, I'm just saying, I don't fall for your act."

"It's not an act."

"Whatever, let's just do this. I'd like to be home in time to have breakfast with my kid."

The surgery doesn't go well. Much to everyone in the OR's dismay, the patient is resistant to anesthesia, and despite the best efforts of the anesthesiologist, Kris Anwar wakes up twice. It's difficult in any case, but for a patient so young, it's infinitely worse. By the time the surgery is finished, and Kris is resting comfortably in recovery with his mom, Santana is absolutely shot. She hadn't gotten the sleep she needed yesterday afternoon, and with the sun rising, she can't decide if she should have another cup of coffee, or just go home and crawl into bed.

—

Figuring she'll sleep regardless, Santana guzzles a cup of coffee from the doctor's lounge, as she goes over her charts from the night. Once she's finished, she doesn't bother to change. In her scrubs, she grabs her bag from her office, and goes downstairs, wishing, as she tries to get a cab, that she'd taken the car to work.

It's before seven when she gets home, and the house is still quiet and dark. Leaving her bag and her shoes in the entryway, she creeps upstairs. In the bedroom, Brittany is still asleep, and Santana pulls off her scrubs, leaving them on the door and unhooks her bra. She still feels that same hissing relief when she takes it off after a long shift at work, even now that the surgery is done, but she doesn't ache everywhere, she doesn't feel like she can't move her arms, and more and more often, she thinks that she'd probably be okay coming home from work and doing the same thing _pregnant._

She crawls into bed, kissing the top of Brittany's head, and sleep comes before she knows it. When she wakes up, the blackout curtains are drawn, and the bed is empty beside her. Her head hurts a little, and she cracks her neck, before she reaches for her phone. It's after one, and she groans, knowing she should get up, knowing they're having company in a few hours, knowing that Brittany has probably already cleaned the house and started getting things ready. She used to love overnights, where she could sleep the day away, but now, she wants to be up with her kid. Now, she has something to care about besides herself.

"When's Mommy Noodle gettin' 'wake?" She hears Liam's voice in the hallway, and Brittany's gentle hushes.

"She's very tired, Li. But I promise, when she gets up, she'll want to play with you. How about we do a little therapy, and then we'll bring Mommy her sandwich and her coffee?"

"It's too tired." He whines a little.

"I know your arm is tired, baby, but that's why we have to do the therapy, right? So you get big, strong muscles in there." Santana imagines Brittany flexing her bicep as she says it, and when she hears Liam giggle, she smiles, knowing she was right. "Just for a little while."

As their voices disappear down the hall, Santana drags herself out of bed. Not wanting to interrupt Liam's arm exercises, she goes right into the bathroom, turns the shower on, and covers her hair. After a long soak, she feels ready to start her day, and when she goes downstairs, she smiles at Liam sitting on the floor with Brittany, trying to thread wide beads on a shoelace. Every time she watches him, her heart swells with such pride. His muscles are getting stronger, his dexterity is getting better, and he no longer gets frustrated like he did in the very beginning.

"Look at you go, Sir." Santana pours her coffee and leans over the counter, expecting his usual jubilant greeting.

"Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle!" He flies toward her, and she scoops him up in her arms. "I misseded you so, so, so much."

"I missed you too." She kisses his dark hair. "But I'm home now."

"You fix any babies?"

"I _did_ actually fix a baby today." Santana laughs at his fixation with babies, asking her every single time she comes home from work. "I helped fix up a little boy with a very broken arm."

"Like me?"

"A little bit, yeah. And now he's going to have a cast like you did too."

"What color? What color?"

"His is orange."

"Whoa! I can get that?"

"Let's hope you don't need a cast for a long, long time instead? Your arm is getting so strong, we don't want it to break again."

"See my muscles Mommy Noodle?" He lifts his arm and flexes as best as he can.

"Wow! It looks like you've really been doing your exercises!"

"I can do the beads! See! See!"

"I do see." She kisses his head again. "I'm so, so proud of you."

While Santana drinks her coffee, Brittany makes lunch. Liam chatters away, eating his chicken nuggets, until his eyelids start to droop, and his head almost falls forward in his plate. Santana waves Brittany off and gets up from the table, lifting Liam into her arms. Once she has him settled into into his bed, she kisses him and goes back downstairs, to where Brittany is cleaning up the dishes.

"Let me do that, Britt. You already cleaned the whole house."

"And you worked overnight. Relax, have another cup of coffee, tell me about your night. Anderson, huh?"

"He was actually _fine._ I mean, I obviously don't want to go have a beer with him, but I'll give him credit for being an exceptional surgeon. Wow, I don't even sound like myself."

"You sound calm." Brittany pours Santana's coffee, and kisses her temple as she gives it to her.

"I _feel_ calm, actually. And you know I'm usually a bear after an overnight."

"I do." She laughs a little, and sits down across from Santana.

"I think I want to try to get pregnant soon, Britt." Santana looks up, meeting Brittany's eyes. "My gyno visit was good, and I just…I want to do this."

"Okay. Okay, wow. I mean, I knew we were heading in that direction—" Brittany laughs, an uncharacteristically giddy sort of laugh. "But wow, okay. How do you…?"

"In a doctor's office. I just…I don't know, I don't feel comfortable with us like, doing it here, or whatever. And IUI or IVF have significantly better success rates, so…I don't know, I guess we start looking at a donor registry."

"Wow. Sorry I keep saying that, but, seriously, Santana, I'm not kidding when I tell you I've been waiting my whole life for this."

"I…haven't." Santana tells her honestly. "It was weird talking to Blaine today, and hearing the shock in his voice when Liam came up. This is pretty much a new dream for me, all of it."

"I know." Brittany lifts her hand and kisses the palm of it. "And I consider myself really lucky to be the one you want to share it with."

"Mommy Noodle is pretty much the best job title ever, and I worked my _ass_ off for my MD. I'm weirdly excited to carry a baby too, I don't know. I was thinking about it when I got undressed after work today, crawling into bed with you, with our baby in me."

"That sounds so nice."

"I mean, realistically, I'll probably have hemorrhoids and pregnancy acne and my feet will swell ten times their size, but that doesn't even make me want to do this any less."

"I love you a _lot_ " Brittany smiles so fondly, that it makes Santana's whole face burn hot. "And I can't wait to do this with you."

As they start to get ready for dinner, Santana feels sort of _bubbly._ She cuts vegetables while Brittany braises chicken, and Liam sits at the table coloring in his book, and there's this unmistakable sense that she's exactly where she should be. Like this home, this life, this possibility of a baby in the future is exactly where it should be. Brittany feels it too, Santana thinks. It's in her kisses, it's in her smiles, it's in the way she places her hand on her lower back, when they open the door to let their guests in. It's everywhere, and it lifts Santana higher and higher into her happiness.

"I like 'Cedes best." Liam announces, bouncing on her lap.

"Liam." Brittany covers her mouth to stifle her laugh, and Mercedes ruffles his hair.

"That's right, little dude, you know how to pick 'em." Sam leans over and high-fives him.

"Did you get wedding?" He asks Sam, who turns bright red. "'Cuz I did, and I got a Mommy Noodle."

"I can't believe—" Kurt leans to whisper in Santana's ear, as she bites into her green beans. "That you're _Mommy Noodle._ "

"Jealous much?" She rolls her eyes.

"No thanks, surgery's my baby. If I want to be Chief someday…"

"Uh, good luck with that happening. We _all_ know who the next Chief of Surgery is."

"Brittany." The table choruses, and Artie's daughter Genevieve claps.

"That's you, Mama! You gonna be fire chief?" His eyes widen, and he giggles. "Yay!"

"No, baby, not fire chief. Not any chief, everyone's just being silly." She shakes her head, biting back a smile.

"Oh, come on, Britt." Artie chides. "We all know you're a shoe in."

"Totally moot point. Sue's still alive, and will probably live forever, given whatever is on those shakes she drinks. There's no race for chief."

"There's _always_ a race for chief." Mercedes sucks her teeth. "Girl, we know it'll be you, and we're not mad. Just make sure it's not Berry, whatever you do."

"I don't even work there, and I know that'll never happen." Dave chuckles.

"It won't be Berry." Santana laces her fingers with Brittany's under the table, enjoying this so much more than she'd expected. "Babe, for real though…"

"Honestly, I'm not even _thinking_ about that right now." She meets Santana's eyes and smiles softly. "If it comes up, we'll see what happens, but I'm telling you right now, Sue Sylvester will outlive us all."

"To Sylvester." Kurt raises his glass.

"To Sylvester!"


	51. Chapter 51

The weather begins to warm up, and the rain comes. After a two-week stretch of overnights for Santana, and a short tip to Omaha for Brittany, they're finally back on the same schedule. At night, after Liam is in bed, they pore over the donor registry from the fertility clinic they have an appointment with. They narrow half of their potential offspring's DNA down to IQ, family health history, and education, immediately crossing off both of their own Alma maters, feeling weird about the possibly it could be someone either of them _know._

It's pouring, the day Santana starts her Lupron. She injects herself in her office, behind the closed door, and she sends a text message to Brittany, who's in surgery, letting her know that she has. Because they're medical professionals, neither she, not Brittany have any sort of romanticized ideas about hormone injections. Santana is more than capable of injecting her gluteal muscles herself, and it seems frivolous to interrupt the work day to have Brittany do it. She'll be there when Santana has the IVF procedure, she'll be there if and when Santana gives birth, and so they're totally fine with treating the actual injection procedure as what it is.

In the afternoon, Santana gets a headache. She knows it's a possible side effect of the shots, but she figures it could also be the weather, and she pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to continue reading over some of the research she's been working on. When there's a knock at the door, she groans, massaging her temples. She looks up though, and there's Brittany, holding a cup of coffee and a scone.

"How did you know that was _exactly_ what I needed right now?" Santana accepts the cup, and Brittany takes a seat across from her.

"Wifely intuition?"

"I'll accept that answer."

"Headache?"

"How'd you know?"

"You keep pinching your nose, and that's what you always do when you have one. Have you taken anything for it?"

"No, the coffee will help, I think."

"I hope so." Brittany bites her bottom lip.

"So do I. I have two meetings this afternoon."

"No surgeries, right?"

"Ugh, no. Just some meetings and rounds, I'll be fine. What's going on with your surgery later?"

"His fever's still up, so we're pushing it back another day. I was going to run out to Whole Foods in a little while and grab a rotisserie chicken and vegetables. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah, totally." She nods. "So…"

"So." A slow smile spreads across Brittany's face. "Everything was good with the injection?"

"It was. I've been rubbing my ass most of the day, but…we're really doing this."

"You don't even know how happy this makes me." Brittany leans up over Santana's desk, and kisses her lips slowly, sweetly. "Bath and massage tonight?"

"You'll get no objection to that here. Thank you Britt, for coming in here and making my day better."

"I'm glad I could." Brittany smooths her pencil skirt and straightens up. "I have to get back downstairs, but really, honey, if your head keeps bothering you, take something."

"No, yeah, I will. If the coffee doesn't help, I have Excedrin. I love you, Britt."

"I love you too, Santana."

Once Brittany leaves, Santana's headache barely subsides. She takes two pills, and she clears off her desk before her meeting starts. There's a throbbing behind her eyes as she talks to the new adoptive parents of a two year old with a cleft lip, but she manages to keep it together as she examines their daughter, and then brings them back to her office to have a discussion with them about surgery.

By the time she goes to Shelby's office for their weekly sit down, she's seeing white spots, the major symptom of one of her stress headaches, beyond anything else. She wishes that she'd taken another pill, but she powers through, discussing her caseload with Shelby, listening to the department report for the week, and accepting Shelby's offer to address the new interns when they show up next week at the hospital.

It's one of those days that Santana _really_ can't wait to end. When she finishes with Shelby, she goes down to the day care center, and Brittany is waiting outside with Liam. When Santana gets closer, she realizes that he's crying. Almost instantaneously, she launches into mother bear mode, coming to his side, and kissing the side of his face.

"Sir, what's the matter?" She coos, waiting until he lifts his head from Brittany's shoulder.

"Damien say-d I's _ugly._ " He wails, reaching his arms out for Santana. "He say-d I getted eated by a _monster!"_

"Oh, Liam." She takes him into her arms, his slight weight the only thing keeping her from boiling into an uncontrollable fit of rage. "We know that's not true, right?"

"I telled him I getted in a big, big fire, and he say-d 'no, you get eated by a monster, monster face!'" Liam continues to cry, tears and boogers and spit coating his face and Santana's top. "I not a monster face!"

"You're not a monster face _at all._ " Santana tells him firmly, her heart aching for her son, her _breasts_ aching in memory. She looks at Brittany, who shakes her head, vein throbbing in her temple. "You have the most beautiful face I've ever seen. I _love_ looking at you, my best boy."

"I not a monster face." He whimpers, chest heaving.

"Shh. Shh." She soothes him, rubbing his back. "Me and Mama've got you now. You're okay."

Brittany doesn't say a word as the get into the elevator. Santana can feel the anger coming off her in waves, such a _rare_ emotion she feels from her wife, and she attempts to quell her own, not wanting to set Brittany off any further. There's a special sort of protectiveness that Brittany feels for Liam, one born of watching him come back from near-death, one of knowing so deeply what _could have_ happened to him, one that Santana can only tangentially understand. This has to be cutting so deeply into Brittany, and Santana forces down her own hot-headed tendencies, and the voice that tells her to find this Damien's parent and give them a piece of her mind. She forces it down so her wife can deal with her _own._

In the time it takes to get to the parking garage, Liam has cried himself to sleep in Santana's arms, and she's so gentle putting him into his car seat, buckling him in, covering him with his blanket, and tucking Percy under his arm. She kisses him once, twice, three times, then gets in the passenger seat, not even offering to take Brittany's place driving. The radio is off, and it's dead silent, but once Brittany pulls out, she finds Santana's hand, and she squeezes it so tightly that her knuckles turn white.

"That little fuck." Brittany seethes, sounding more like Santana than herself. "How dare he?"

"I know." Santana murmurs, not wanting to talk over Brittany. "I know."

"I have been so afraid for this moment since the first time I dropped him off at Brigham, when he was just a baby. He's grown into this beautiful, confident child, and still, I was so fearful of someone telling him he was different. But 'monster face?' That's worse than I ever could have imagined. I notice it in the grocery store, or on the street, or at the playground, and I know you do too, the way adults avert their eyes, ever so subtly, like they're afraid I'll think they're staring at him. There are two people in the world, outside of my parents who _never_ did that. Sue Sylvester, and _you._ But a kid…goddamnit, a _kid_ could be _that_ cruel?"

"It's surreal, and infuriating, and my stomach hurts thinking about it."

"I never…" Brittany shakes her head, tears clinging to her blonde lashes.

"Go ahead, Britt."

"There's nothing I could have done to prepare him for this. Nothing either of us could have. He's our son, and I hate more than anything that we can't keep him safe from things that hurt him. I was just so…voluntarily isolated as a child, reading my books, and writing in my journal at lunch, that I never experienced a heartache like that. I don't know, am I being completely ridiculous? Kids call each other names, other mothers don't cry over it."

"It's different." Santana whispers. "It's so different."

"But should we be treating it like it is?" Brittany glances at Liam in the rear view mirror. "I mean…I don't even know what I mean. I'm sorry, I'm so completely inarticulate right now."

"Hey." She holds out her hand, asking Brittany to take it, as rain beats down on the windshield under bright streetlights. "I understand you completely. I'm new at this mom thing, and I trust whatever you think."

"The problem is, I don't know _what_ to think. That's what it comes down to."

"Okay." Santana inhales, then lets out a long breath. "I think…it's an important distinction. And…I think he should know that he looks different, and that different isn't bad, or ugly, or…whatever anyone else wants to say. You're the one who made me believe that, Brittany, and, I don't know, I just feel like it's really important."

"You're a really good mom, Santana."

"I learned from you, Brittany." She squeezes her hand. "My heart hurts for him right now. I wasn't ever _called_ a monster, but looks say a lot. I'll tell you this though, he's a hell of a lot stronger than I am. I could tell that the first time I met him."

"Playing with trains on your office floor." Brittany manages to smile a little.

"I was so charmed by his smile, and so impressed with how well he operated with just his left hand. He's taught me so many lessons, and as _furious_ as I am, I'm still so sure he's going to be okay."

"Do you know how lucky I am to have you? How much I needed you to reassure me?"

"I feel the same, pretty much every day of my life. We'll figure it out, Britt."

"I know that, I do. Quite honestly, I'm glad that I'm not a single parent anymore. The burned is eased so greatly when there are two of us." Brittany stops at at light and rakes her hand through her hair. "Speaking of, how's your head? How's your butt?"

"It's fine, don't worry about it."

"I will though." She shakes her head.

"I actually kind of forgot about it. I'll take another Excedrin when we get inside, and maybe eating will tamp it down. The scone helped earlier, so…"

"Li might just stay asleep, and if that's the case, we can take that bath earlier."

"That would be nice, if you're still up for it."

"I think I'm even _more_ up for it now, actually."

"Good." Santana lifts Brittany's hand to kiss the inside of her wrist. "Then that's what we'll do."


	52. Chapter 52

If it's possible, Santana is certain she has every single symptom of her hormone shots. As a doctor, she's used to telling the parents of her patients about the _rare_ incidents of so many drug side effects, but as she crouches over the toilet for the countless time, emptying the contents of her stomach, with a bone crushing headache and a continuous bruise that covers a large portion of her upper thighs and buttocks, she begins to question everything she knows. She's _miserable,_ and the only think that keeps her from stopping is the knowledge that she's almost finished…at least with the medication.

Luckily, Santana manages to make it through her surgeries without getting sick. She pops her pain killers to keep her headache at bay, and she refuses to succumb to the exhaustion that she feels. Nearly every other day, she meets Brittany upstairs at eleven-am, spreading her legs on the exam table, or presenting her arm to take blood, or talking about her ovaries while she inhales whatever snack Brittany inevitably brings her. Though she's tracking her own ovulation, she's fairly certain Dr. Roz Washington will know the _instant_ she's ready for the next step, and for that reason, she can't complain about the frequency of her daily doctor's visits.

Liam has trouble going back to day care. For the first week after Damien broke his tiny heart, Santana had asked her mom to take him while they were at work, and for the second, she and Brittany were on opposite schedules. But when it's time to send him back, both of them knowing that their irregular schedules mean that they can't keep him out of there forever, he cries. In the weeks he _hadn't_ been there, Santana half-suspected that Liam had forgotten, but then, suddenly, when the morning came for him to return, it all comes rushing back.

"I wanna stay with Gramma Mary-bell? Okey?" He pleads, clinging to Brittany's side outside of the day care center.

"Li, baby, I wish you could stay with Grandma Maribel too, but she's very, very busy this week. Besides, you're going to see all your friends, right?"

"No! No! No!" He shakes his head vehemently. "I can go home and Lord Tubb-a-Ton will stay with me!"

"Hey, Sir, c'mere." Santana holds our her hand, seeing Brittany's deep internal struggle. "Remember, Mama and I talked to Miss Sandy? And there'll be no mean words anymore?"

"Mommy Noodle, Damien don't _never_ listen to Miss Sandy!"

"I do too listen to Miss Sandy!" A boy shrieks, and Liam tugs on Santana's coat, begging her to lift him. Without hesitating, she does, and beside her, Brittany stiffens. "You don't know nothin', Monster Face!"

"Damien John Heyward!" The familiar voice jars Santana, and she looks over to see Heyward standing there, absolutely horrified. "Oh God, Dr. Lopez, Dr. Pierce, I'm _so_ sorry."

"I…" Santana opens and closes her mouth, unsure what to even say. For two weeks, she's considered hunting down Damien's parents, to give them a piece of her damn mind about raising a terrible human being, and now, _Jane Heyward_ is his mother?

"Damien!" Heyward crouches down to his level, and looks him straight in the eye. "I _never_ want to hear that out of your mouth again, you hear me? You apologize _right_ now."

"Sorry." Damien mumbles, looking at his feet. Liam tenses in Santana's arms, and she squeezes him a little tighter.

"Like you mean it."

"I'm sorry, Liam. You is not a monster face."

"Never again, Damien. What have I told you about people's feelings?"

"They is break-inble."

"That's right." Her tone softens a little, and she stands up, smoothing her scrubs, clearly mortified. "I'm so very sorry, Liam. Dr. Lopez, Dr. Pierce."

Santana just shakes her head a little. She isn't sure what to say, and quite frankly, she's stunned. First off, she had no idea she had a child, she'd just assumed because she was young, and because she's caught her making out with that girl from dermatology that she didn't, but…that's not even the point. Carefully, she sets Liam back on his feet, and she can't even really hear what Brittany is saying to Heyward. She just watches her son, holding the side of his face, cautious, _so_ cautious as he looks at Damien. He bounces back, she thinks, and with his little backpack on, he toddles into the room, blowing kisses back to her and Brittany.

She's quiet, as she walks with Brittany down to her office. They do this every day, Brittany kissing her goodbye when they get there, but today, Santana is shaken. Maybe it's the shots, making her more emotional than she _already_ is. Or maybe it's how mature she'd been about all of it, emotionally supporting her wife when _she_ was having such a difficult time with this. Honestly, she's not even sure. But she feels herself trembling, she feels herself being wrapped in her wife's arms, wishing she didn't have to let go.

"Are you okay, honey?" Brittany asks her after a long while.

"Uh huh, yeah. Sorry, I just…"

"Yeah, I know. Easier without faces attached, right?"

"So much easier." She nods into Brittany's shoulder. "You know that Heyward is my favorite."

"You know that doesn't have to change, right?"

"I pretty much fantasized about torturing her for two weeks…"

"If she hadn't been so mortified, and made him apologize, I'd still be right there." Brittany confesses. "But…this was obviously just…i don't know. Liam is okay."

"Liam is okay." Santana echoes.

"I'd like to think that he would never say something that would hurt someone like Damien hurt him, but…he could very well say something he doesn't mean, or doesn't quite understand, that would hurt someone else."

"No, yeah, I get that. I just…knowing he's Heyward's son makes me think there was less ill-intention behind it than I'd though. But still… Sorry, I'm just really emotional this morning." She wipes the tears from her face. "God, I'm a mess."

"Don't be sorry." Brittany runs her fingers through Santana's ponytail. "I'm still upset. Even two weeks later, I'm heartbroken, because I know it's a reality that our son will face for his entire life. I'm trying to be rational, really."

"Let me tell you, these shots? Total erasers of all rationale. If you ever need an army of women who get angry over kitchen sinks and cry during Target commercials, line them up and inject them with Lupron."

"C'mere." She pulls Santana closer, and Santana closes her eyes as Brittany runs her fingers through her hair.

"What?"

"Nothing, just wanted to hug you. I have a 9:00 surgery."

"I know. Go, I'm fine."

"You're sure you don't want me to come up for your ultrasound this morning?"

"Britt, I promise, I'm fine. It's ten minutes, and we both know it's nothing exciting. You've come to more than half of these ridiculous morning visits, go do your surgery, okay?"

"Okay." Brittany brushes Santana's hair away from her face. "But page me if you're doing the trigger shot today, and I'm in surgery."

"I will, don't worry." Santana kisses her lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Like she's done every day, Santana has her morning ultrasound, checking the size of her follicles. The nurse tells her Roz will be in touch later on, and Santana just nods and goes back downstairs. Maybe it's feeling like she can't get too attached to this whole process yet, or maybe she's just so versed in medicine that she doesn't get emotional about it. Either way, she has to work. She has two appendectomies back to back, and she has to admit, for the first time, she's glad Hayward isn't on her service. She's not _mad_ at her, per day, she just…needs time to process the idea that her son is the one who made hers cry. That her son is the reason hers pulled at his face, and crawled into bed with she and Brittany nearly every night since it happened. That her son told hers that he wasn't beautiful.

Porter is on Santana's service, and he brings her a cup of coffee when he comes in. She guzzles it down, still trying to combat her omnipresent exhaustion. She's glad both her appendectomies go smoothly, and when her second patient is in recovery, Santana goes back up to her office, checking her pager on the way, to make sure she hadn't missed a call from Roz.

There's no call, so she warms up her coffee from earlier in the microwave and sits at her desk, thumbing through some new research on Spina Bifida. Just after noon, there's a knock on her door, and when Santana looks up, she expects to see Brittany. Instead though, Heyward stands there, wringing her hands in front of her body.

"What is it, Heyward?"

"Dr. Lopez, I was…hoping for a second of your time."

"Make it quick." Santana doesn't meet her eyes, fixating on rearranging the pens on her desk.

"I wanted to come apologize again. Look, I know there's no excuse for what Damien said to your son, and I'm absolutely mortified by it. He's a _sweet_ kid, Dr. Lopez, his father and I have a really good relationship for his sake, and—"

"Heyward?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not your therapist, and I've got a lot of work to do."

"No, I know that, and I'm sorry if I'm being unprofessional, but I respect you so much. I hope to get a peds fellowship someday. I _know_ this reflects poorly on me, between this, and the time you caught me in the on call room with Sugar—"

"I don't judge the medical ability of my interns based on their personal lives." Santana shakes her head and clicks her pen. "You're the best intern in the program, my recommendations from you in the future will reflect only on that."

"I appreciate that, Dr. Lopez, more than you know, but I mostly just wanted to make sure you knew that Damien won't ever say anything like that to your son again. God, I don't even know where that came from."

"Yeah, well…it hurt my kid. But I appreciate your apology, and his, Heyward. So, thanks for that."

Without another word, Santana goes back to her work. Her head hurts, she's exhausted, and honestly, this is the last thing she feels like dealing with today. Heyward leaves her office quietly, and she goes back to her reading, managing to get ten pages done, before her phone buzzes on the desk in front of her. Grabbing it, she swallows hard, seeing that it's Roz, and she takes a breath before she answers the phone.

"Dr. Lopez speaking."

"Santana, it's Roz Washington."

"Hi Roz. What's going on?"

"Based on your ultrasound this morning, your follicles have reached an ideal size for harvesting."

"Has anyone ever told you that what you do _kind of_ sounds like an alien horror movie?"

"Same could be said to you, Dr. Lopez, removing organs from children and all that."

"Touché." Santana laughs a little, nerves tangling her belly. "So I should do the trigger shot then?"

"Do it between two and three. Then clear your schedule for Thursday afternoon, and we'll do the retrieval."

"Oh—okay. Okay." She nods to herself. "So, should I, like, come up there this afternoon?"

"Nope, just give yourself the shot, and I'll see you Thursday."

"Okay, uh, thanks?"

Hanging up the phone, Santana feels more nauseous than she's felt throughout this whole procedure. She's not nervous in a _bad_ way, but still, she's anxious. Leaving her papers where they are on the desk, she opens her refrigerator and stares at both the egg salad sandwich Brittany made her, and the vial containing the trigger hormones. She takes the sandwich out, and she sits back at her desk, taking small bites of it while she turns the backlight of her phone on and off. Brittany should be out of surgery any minute. She has an hour before she's even in the window where she can do the shot. She doesn't want to interrupt her while she's finishing up. She'll be done in time to just…be there while she does it.

When she finishes her lunch, she takes the vial and syringe, and she puts it into her bag. Then she goes down to Brittany's office, and she breathes a sigh of relief seeing that it's open. Slipping in, she closes the door behind her, and Brittany looks up, smiling, when she sees her standing there.

"Hey honey, how was your morning?"

"Roz called." Santana rushes out, feeling out of breath. "I'm kind of freaking out, and I don't really know why."

"Santana." Brittany stands up, and walks across her office, pulling Santana into her embrace. She doesn't say anything else, she just holds her there, and Santana sinks into her, waiting until her heart stops racing.

"Okay, sorry, I don't know what the hell is wrong with me."

"I've been nervous too, and it's not my body. It's something new."

"Can you…maybe do the shot for me this time?"

"Of course I can." Brittany kisses her lips twice. "I'll shut the shades."


	53. Chapter 53

While Santana has her eggs harvested three days after her trigger shot, Brittany holds her hand. Though Santana insists she's fine to go home and rest on her own, Brittany comes with her. Liam sits on the floor beside the couch where Santana lays, and Brittany makes her tea. When she falls asleep, Brittany covers her with a blanket, and she swears, even dreaming, she can feel her wife kiss her forehead. This is the woman she's trying to have a baby with. This is the woman who loves her in such a quiet, unimaginable way.

Even after she wakes up, she's tired. Her morning at work was busy, and maybe she's kind of a baby when it comes to even the most mundane of medical procedures. So she doesn't do much. They order takeout, and Liam crawls into Santana's arms to watch _Storks._ Santana rests her head on Brittany's shoulders, and she plays with her fingers, feeling Liam breathe against her neck as she does. A year ago, happiness would have looked like widespread acclaim for some new medical procedure she invented, or membership to some prestigious club, but today, it's this. Today, she realizes that they're more important than anything else.

She thinks about it a lot, as she holds Liam in her arms. She thinks about it as she rubs his lotion on his scars, and she gently stretches out his atrophied arm. She thinks about it as she tucks him beneath his blankets, and kisses his forehead just before he falls asleep. With all the anxiety that her fertility procedure has caused her—and certainly, it's a lot—she hasn't really had time to consider what the intended eventual outcome is. That she'll have a _baby._ Another little human person to love, another little human person who loves _her._ For someone who has spent most of their life feeling like the most unlovable person in the world, that's a lot to take in.

They get into bed early. Santana is sore, and exhausted, and still feeling a general sense of _ick,_ so she gets into her most comfortable pajamas. Sex is off the table, for obvious reasons—and it has been, since she started her shots and just hasn't felt like it—but she lays with Brittany. Brittany, for her part, is particularly physically affectionate with her. She kisses her hairline, her cheeks, her lips, and she massages Santana's shoulders and back. It's the kind of touch Santana relishes. The kind that says _I love you, I've got you._ And with those touches, she falls asleep, wrapped up in her wife's arms.

For the next two days, Santana is a mess. She's nearly glued to her phone, checking to see if Roz called every two minutes, even though she hasn't let it go long enough that she'd miss the call. Even when she's in surgery, she puts an intern in charge of the device, directing them to let her know as soon as she gets a call. She knows the procedure is happening on Thursday, she knows that won't change, but still, she can't function thinking that she might possibly miss a call that gives her some kind of pertinent information.

Santana isn't sentimental about the idea of pregnancy. She's a surgeon, and she's entirely awake that she's having a surgical procedure to implant a microscopic ball of cells into her body, one that may or may not become a fetus. She has no magical ideas of wishing, or praying, or wearing lucky underwear to help the procedure along. The embryo will take, or it won't, depending on several thousand cellular factors. Still though, as she walks hand in hand with Brittany up to the fertility center, she can't help but feel a little wistful. Part of her can't help but feel some bitterness that she can't just get pregnant by having sex with her wife, that she has to have another doctor intervene so she can experience something so natural, that it's costing them several thousand dollars for something straight couples do by mistake. But it is what it is. Wishing for something that's impossible will never make it real.

"Are you okay, Santana?" Brittany asks, squeezing her hand, and squinting her eyes in concern.

"No, yeah, I'm fine. Just…thinking."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's okay. It's not a big deal." She shakes her head. "So, we're doing this."

"Are you ready for it?" Brittany stops and turns to face Santana. "I know that it's a lot to take in."

"I really am, Brittany. I'm really nervous, but…I'm glad we're doing it. I _want_ to do it."

"Okay, good. Because I don't want you to feel—"

"Hey." Santana leans forward, and gently kisses Brittany's lips. "I don't feel any kind of way except glad to be having a baby with you. Right now, this is the most put together and confident in myself that I've ever felt. I didn't think this was the kind of experience that I'd ever have, or even _want_ to have, but…I mean it when I tell you how much being a mom has meant to me. I'm looking forward to experiencing pregnancy with you. I'm sorry that I've been really distant and clinical about it, but I guess…I don't know. Maybe I'm afraid of disappointment or something."

"You don't have to apologize. It's a _lot._ I'm overwhelmed by it, and I'm not the one who's been going through all of the testing, the medication, and the shots. I can't imagine how you feel, but if you want to talk about anything at all, I'm always right here."

"I know, and I love you more for that."

While Santana is on the table in Roz's office, she starts to get a little panicked. From her three harvested eggs, there's only one viable embryo, only one shot this round, and it all feels really real, and really intense. When she notices her breathing is too shallow, she takes deep breaths, sucking in as much air as she possibly can. Roz talks, but she can hardly hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat. Brittany holds her hand, and Santana squeezes it tightly, attempting to ground herself.

"Are you ready, Santana?" Roz asks, snapping her gloves on. This woman is the best fertility specialist in the country, and when she talks, she makes Santana incredibly nervous.

"Uh huh. Yeah." She nods, shooting a glance to Brittany, who smiles adoringly at her.

Because she's a surgeon, Santana can't help but watch the ultrasound screen as Roz guides the catheter into her. It's uncomfortable, definitely, but Santana is careful not to squirm, knowing that the location of the transfer needs to be precise. She's screwed up a lot of things in her life, but she won't let this be one of them. If the transfer doesn't take…well, that's a medical reality. If the transfer doesn't take because _she_ messed something up, she'll be disgusted with herself. Every instruction, she's followed to the letter, every shot she's given herself at exactly the same time. Today is the last step of this cycle. Today she'll go home and lay in bed, while she _waits._

For the entire duration of it, Brittany rubs her thumb on the inside of Santana's wrist. She _knows,_ she always does, and maybe it's stupid, but her presence relaxes Santana to such a degree that she can forget the discomfort, she can think about what might be happening at this very moment. Medically, it's an embryo, medically, this is not a human being for Santana to pin her hopes and dreams on. But still, Santana is in her thirties, and for the very first time, she feels like she could ignore logic, like she could _believe_ in something as absurd as wishing.

"And there you have it." Roz pushes her stool back, and the tension in Santana's thighs loosens. "We'll see how it goes."

"That's it?"

"I can give you the standard 'take it easy' speech if you want it, but you know the deal. Go home, have a glass of wine. Don't take home pregnancy tests, unless you want to drive yourself and _me_ nuts, when they're inaccurate, and you'll know from your blood test in twelve days before you'd get a real read anyway. Don't freak out if you're spotting, it could be implantation bleeding. Take your progesterone, don't have sex or take a bath. That's it."

"That's it." Santana repeats again, nodding. "Well…okay. Thank you, Roz."

"Yes, thank you." Brittany reiterates.

"Call me if there's anything you need, but I don't expect to hear from you."

Having come to the agreement that they weren't going to pull Liam out of his day early, Brittany drives Santana home from the hospital with the full intent of having a late lunch together at home before she goes back to the hospital to get him. Roz hadn't advised any sort of bed rest, and she'd told Santana she should keep up her normal activities, but given the fact that she's temporarily not taking her sleeping pills, and she tossed and turned all night, she wants to just do absolutely nothing.

They get home, and they make a salad together. Roz told Santana to have a glass of wine, so she does, looking over the rim of the glass at Brittany. When they're through with lunch, Santana is itching to get out of the pants she's been wearing, and she pads up the stairs to the bedroom.

She yanks off her slacks, and grabs a clean pair of scrubs from the top drawer and slides into them. When she takes her shirt off, she looks at herself in the mirror. Her bra covers most of her scarring, and she looks down, just for an instant, at the flat plane of her stomach. She feels…exactly the same as she felt before her appointment, which is sort of surprising to her, and she can't help but wonder when and if she'll feel different before she _knows._ Shaking her head, she pulls a long-sleeved t-shirt over her head, and sits down on the edge of the bed, fighting to the urge to lay back and pretend like she'll be able to fall asleep there.

"Hey." Brittany leans on the door frame, squinting her eyes.

"Hey, sorry, I've been up here way too long for just changing my clothes."

"You don't have to apologize. I just figured I'd come up and change out of my work clothes too."

"Hmm, so tease me by getting naked?"

"I can go in the bathroom." She laughs.

"You better not."

"Yes boss." Brittany unbuttons her blouse and pulls a soft cardigan over her head. While she slips into her jeans, she looks over at Santana. "You're sure you're alright today?"

"I think everything just has to do with how tired I feel. I guess maybe I was a little addicted to the Ambien. I haven't been sleeping much."

"I figured. You have your appointment next week, right?"

"Tuesday, yeah. I'll get it sorted, I guess. Or learn to live without sleep. We're trying for a baby, I should probably get used to that _anyway,_ no?" Santana flops back on the bed, hair splaying out on the pillow.

"You never know." Brittany lays beside her, brushing the hair from her cheek. "And I really would like you to be able to sleep. Do you want me to leave you so you can try to nap?"

"No, don't." Santana turns on her side. "Sorry, I'm being stupid today. It's just emotional. I guess I just want to _know,_ and maybe I hate that there's nothing we can _do._ I mean, if…"

"If we weren't both women, we could have a lot of sex and increase our odds." Brittany finishes for her.

"How did you…?"

"I've thought about it too. Medicine is ninety-percent impersonal, and making a baby probably the most personal thing a personal thing you can do." Santana knows her face falls at Brittany's words, but Brittany smooths away the wrinkles on her forehead and kisses her between the eyes. "But making a baby is so much more than a sperm and an egg. If and when you get pregnant, there's so much we can do together to get ready. I'm excited for that."

"Why are you still like this?"

"What? You think marrying you meant I'd undergo a personality shift?"

"Maybe…you're sure you won't get sick of me?"

"Santana, if anything, I get _less_ sick of you." Brittany squeezes her hip.

"You." She kisses Brittany's lips, and sits back up. "Are the love of my life. I'll go with you to get Liam."

"Didn't you want to lay down?"

"Nah, if I _do_ fall asleep, I'll sleep like shit, and then I won't tonight. And I promised Liam we'd get some new books this week."

"So bookstore and then dinner?"

"Then some of that sleepy tea I caught you buying."

"I just want to help you sleep."

"I know, and it means a lot."


	54. Chapter 54

The next twelve days are excruciating. Brittany goes to Philadelphia for a conference, and though Santana briefly considers driving down with Liam for the weekend, she figures it will just be a distraction, and decides against it. Instead, she stays home and scrubs the house from top to bottom, she takes Liam to the Children's Museum, she takes him up to Westchester to have dinner at her mom's. She just stays as busy as she can, or else she might burst from a lethal combination of anxiousness and exhaustion.

On the seventh day, she bleeds. Santana refuses to get her hopes up about it, but when the bleeding stops and her period doesn't come, that becomes harder than she'd thought. Still though, she keeps Roz's warning in her mind. She doesn't buy a pregnancy test, she just tells Brittany about the bleeding and drops the subject.

The morning of her blood test, Santana gets a page for a mass trauma incident. In her office, she throws her scrubs on, and runs to the elevator, calling the fertility office on her way down to tell them she needs to reschedule for later on. Brittany is in the ambulance bay when she gets there, and Santana mimes that she changed it, before grabbing Adams and Rose and finding Shelby with them at her side.

Sylvester silences the chatter in the bay, and Santana feels a wave of nausea rush over her as the Chief describes the bus crash where there victims are coming from. Ninety-six injuries on a double bus at rush hour, half of the patients being transported to Lenox Hill, and the other half to this hospital. Because Pres has the better trauma unit, Santana knows that the bus passengers they get will be the ones worse off, and she fights the urge to be sick, thinking of the kids on their way to school, thinking of the devastating impact of their last mass trauma on Christmas Eve.

The sirens blare, and shouting commences in the bay, department heads barking orders as Sylvester ushers stretchers inside. Shelby grabs Santana by the forearm, giving her the first one, a twelve-year-old boy with shards of glass and metal protruding from his chest. His sobs and moans echo from the rafters, and the paramedic who wheels him over follows Santana to an area that has been cleared, reading off his vitals before Santana can yank the chart from his hand to get the process started faster.

"Hey, Donte." She soothes, using her most comforting voice as she leans over the child. "I'm Dr. Lopez, and we're going to get you all fixed up all right?"

"Where's my grandma?" He sobs, and Santana notices the restraints on his wrists, the way he tugs against them.

"What are these for?" She snaps at the paramedic, who blanches.

"To keep him from pulling at the gigantic shards of glass in his chest." He hisses in Santana's ear. "What do you think?"

"I'm just _checking._ " She whips her head around, and back up Donte. "Okay, buddy, your grandma was on the bus with you?"

"Uh uh." He shakes his head, then wails in pain. "Get them out of me! Please!"

"Okay, okay. I'm going to do just that, I promise. How about we get your grandma on the phone and get her over here?"

"Please. Please."

Santana grabs an intern to get social services for her, and once she knows that Donte's grandmother is being contacted, she turns her attention back to her patient, pumping him up on painkillers and sedatives to at least ease his struggle. The window shards are deeply imbedded into his entire torso, but it's the chunk of metal below his heart that worries her. She can't remove it, not like this, and she searches for a trauma surgeon to advise her further. Instead, it's Mercedes that she spots first, and she grabs her, figuring someone with her cardio-thoracic skill would be just as good, if not better.

"It just missed the heart." Mercedes tells her. "But the left lung is punctured pretty badly, and that might be worse."

"Because he'll die slowly."

"There's probably a thirty-percent chance of him surviving the surgery, _if_ we can get this out of him without causing more damage."

"So what are we going to do? How do we make those odds better?"

"We get him into surgery now, and we beat the clock. I'm going to clear my day, do you have anything urgent scheduled?"

"No." Santana glances down at the lump in her scrub pocket, where her phone is. Roz is in until six, she should be done by then, and if she's not…well, it won't change the results either way if she waits until tomorrow. "I'll call down for an OR."

In the elevator, Donte shakes, and Santana immediately fears that he's having a seizure. But he's not. He's just having a physical reaction to the pain, and the shaking makes him hurt _more,_ causing him to howl out in pain. The sedatives are hardly doing anything, the pain is too raw, too intense, and he sobs for his grandmother. She's not here yet. Santana doesn't know _when_ she'll be here, or how much of a mess things are outside due to the crash, but she knows that they can't wait to get him into surgery. At the thought of that, Santana feels like she could vomit. She can't imagine—no, she can't. She _won't._

Two cardio residents are behind Santana at the sink, and she knots her Cat in the Hat scrub cap on her head before she leans over to scrub in. Through the glass, she sees Mercedes holding Donte's hand as Tina puts him under, and Santana has to blink away the prickling behind her eyes. This isn't like her, not at all, but for some reason, everything is getting to her today. Biting her tongue, she pushes in through the door to the OR, and she meets Mercedes' eyes across the table.

"I've got blood up here, I'm putting the interns on suction. We're removing the glass, suturing, and then we'll get the rod out. I hope your stitches are still as fast and tight as they were in med school."

"They are." Santana nods.

"I feel like I should say _it's a beautiful day to save lives._ "

"Please don't. Let's just do this."

Across the table from each other, they work in dead silence, stitching angry lacerations, both avoiding what they know the real danger is for as long as possible. Santana watches the rise and fall of Donte's chest, the rise and fall of the hunk of metal, and she grinds her teeth, utterly determined to save his life. Utterly determined to beat the odds for him.

His heart rate drops dramatically before they finish removing the largest shards of glass, and Mercedes pushes back one of the interns in favor of her best scrub nurse. Santana knows it's time, and she cracks her knuckles, completely prepared to follow Mercedes' lead.

"I need you to pull this out, Santana. Not all at once, but I'll guide you."

"Okay." She nods, swallowing hard. "Whenever you're ready."

Santana can't believe the strength she has to muster just to move the metal the first half an inch, but she continues to listen to Mercedes, ignoring the blaring of machines that warn her of how ravaged this boy's body is. He was on his way to school, he has his whole life ahead of him, and yet…here he is, fighting for his life on their table. A wave of fresh nausea hits Santana again, but she doesn't release her steady grip on the metal that's smooth beneath her gloves.

She can't say she does much of the actual surgery, Mercedes' hands move surely and rapidly, and she just obeys, removing the rod further and further until she feels it pop out, and watches dark red blood flood Donte's chest. Without skipping a beat, Santana waits for her instructions from Mercedes, studying how her fingers delicately repair the mangled tissue of his lungs as machines scream angrily in the background, beeping frantically to warn them that he is no longer breathing.

But still, they don't stop, and when the blaring of the machines ceases, the silence is almost deafening. Time seems to freeze as the din is replaced with a steady beep, and a smile spreads across Mercedes' face. Santana hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath, until it all whooshes out of her. It's one of the marvels of medicine, Santana thinks, watching a body that the life has been sucked out of suddenly come back. And for a child who had such low survival odds going in, its even more miraculous. He's not out of the woods, she knows that for sure, and he'll have weeks in PICU, but he made it through the surgery. Mercedes is closing him up. He'll get to see his grandmother again, at the very least.

After talking to the social worker and Donte's grandmother with Mercedes, Santana wants a moment to herself. She grabs a bottle of water from the vending machine, and she sips it slowly, leaning against a wall in the empty hallway where she likes to hide.

Her back aches from the long surgery, and the press of the wall against it is on odd sort of comfort. If she's being honest with herself, she could easily cry right now, but not from pain. Just from…well, she's not entirely sure. Some surgeries just get to her, even if the patient survives. Some surgeries make her stop and just contemplate the fragility of life. It could have been her on that bus, or Brittany, or Liam. Not that they take the bus, but that's beside the point. Everything could be ripped away with one single misstep, and not even, necessarily, one of her own. They were going to work, to school, to the grocery store…

She shakes her head and pulls her hair down. There's blood down the front of her scrubs, and she feels the sudden urge to shower, to stand beneath the scalding water and rinse everything off of her. She can't remember the last time she showered at the hospital, or if she even knows where the locker room is, but she meanders down the hall, hoping she bumps into it.

As an afterthought, Santana considers the fact that she should have gone to her office for her regular clothes, but instead, she stops by the scrub machine and grabs a clean pair of dark scrubs to slip into. She has ten-minutes left of her shift, ten minutes until she…

"Fuck." She mutters, fishing her phone out of her pocket. With everything going on, she'd forgotten about her appointment. She'd forgotten that she'd spent the last twelve days obsessing about whether she was pregnant. And now…in ten minutes, she needs to be up in the fertility clinic.

Without time for the long shower she so desperately wants, Santana turns the water as hot as it can go, and shucks her scrubs before stepping into the spray. The shampoo that comes from the machines was quite clearly not designed for her hair, and it'll undoubtedly be a tangled mess when she finishes, but she can't help but wash it. While the conditioner sets in, she scrubs her body, feeling dry skin whisk off and down the drain. She needs to feel clean, she needs to _be_ clean, since going to her obstetrics appointment with someone else's blood on her feels like the worst thing a person could possibly do.

Quickly, she dresses in the scrubs, rolling up the bottoms like she always has to when she's not wearing a pair of her own, and she takes the stairs to Brittany's office. She's just closing up her blinds when Santana gets there, and she turns to smile at her, that soft smile she gives when she knows it's been a hell of a day for both of them. Santana takes a breath at the sight, and she steps into Brittany's space, dropping her dirty scrub bag, and letting her engulf her in an embrace.

"I heard you did a miracle surgery."

"World travels fast." She breathes into Brittany's neck.

"You know how the interns are. Wilde was on my service, so she's always the first to spread gossip."

"I was mainly Mercedes. I had the pleasure of pulling a giant metal rod out of a twelve-year old's lung."

"I may not be in cardio, but I'd say that with certainty that you played an important role."

"He survived." Santana shrugs, that's all that matters. "What about you?"

"The bus driver's face was crushed. _Is_ crushed, I should say. I did the first of at least a dozen maxillofacial reconstructive surgeries on her today."

"Jeeze." Her breath rushes out of her.

"That was a terrifying accident."

"I can't stop thinking about it. How things like that just…happen. To anyone. To people's wives, their kids…"

"I know." Brittany hugs her tighter, stroking her hair, tangled and damp.

"Some day to have a pregnancy test."

"I'm sure Roz would let you reschedule for the morning if you just want to go home. If you're pregnant, you'll still be then. If you're not, it won't change either."

"No. We should go. Going home isn't going to do anything, and honestly, if I'm not pregnant, I'm taking an Ambien."

"How about if you _are_ , I give you a long, relaxing massage instead?" A slow, crooked smile appears on Brittany's face, and Santana can't help but smile in response.

"If I'm pregnant…" She shakes her head. "I can't, I'm sorry, I can't talk about that possibility until we know. So let's just… _know._ "

In her too-big scrubs, Santana slides her fingers through Brittany's as they step into the elevator. She counts the floors as they go up, an anxiousness settling back in the pit of her stomach. Brittany opens one of the handled double doors for Santana, and she steps inside, breathing in the smell of lavender as she sinks down onto the plush waiting room chair. She's gotten used to this place over the past month, and she relaxes, squeezing Brittany's hand in her lap as they wait for Santana to be called in.

It takes a good twenty minutes, _probably_ because Santana rescheduled, and then was late for her new appointment, but the nurse calls her back. While she checks vitals and draws Santana's blood, Santana watches Brittany examine the fetal structures on table. Brittany is brilliant, and even as a plastic surgeon, Santana is certain she knows the anatomy of each stage, and she smiles to herself. Brittany is nervous, she realizes. That's why she's so intently looking at the decor, and as the nurse fills the blood vials, Santana can't help but feel…better that she's not the only one.

The wait for the lab results to come in is excruciating. Santana keeps checking her watch, and thinking how long Liam has been in day care for far too long. She hates leaving him there. It's weird, maybe, how protective she is of him, considering he got along just fine before she came along, but she finds herself checking her pager more frequently during the day. She just wants to make sure nothing has gone wrong, she wants to make sure he knows they're there, if it does.

"Hey ladies." Roz knocks on the doorframe and steps inside. "Heard it was one hell of a day downstairs."

"Garbage truck collided with the M55 at rush hour. Hell might be better." Santana shudders and runs her hand through her hair, frowning when it catches on a tangle. "So…"

"So…" Roz cocks an eyebrow, teasing, Santana thinks. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Am I pregnant?"

"Cutting right to the chase, huh?" She laughs. "As I expected, the embryo did take on the first transfer, so yes, you are."

"Good." Santana tries to conceal her excitement, but a smile spreads across her face, and a laugh ripples from her chest as she looks at Brittany. "Babe."

"Wow." Brittany leans down and kisses her, ears turning red, Santana knows, when she remembers they're standing in front of Roz. "You're pregnant."

"It's early though…" She looks at Roz, furrowing her brow.

"You're right. But your numbers are looking good."

"But it's still early." She shakes her head. "Sorry, I'm just…cautious. I'll probably be like this while I'm giving birth, or 'til the kid is eighteen, or I'm dead, whichever. Are you _sure_ I had a kid?"

Roz and Brittany share a laugh, and Brittany strokes Santana's cheek, "Cautious is good."

"I'm kind of stupid excited." Santana murmurs, looking at her lap. "Even if I feel like I might throw up."

"Me too. Not the vomiting part, but the excited part."

"See me in two days." Roz tells them. "I'll check your hCG again, and then we'll go from there."

"Why?"

"Because it needs to double." Brittany whispers, revealing how much she actually knows about this. Santana's heart pounds in her chest, overwhelmed by how much she loves this woman, and she nods.

"I'll sneak up between patients. Definitely easier for me that you're _here._ "

"You'd probably never find time to come if I wasn't." She sucks her teeth.

Santana feels strange as Roz finishes up, talking about what she should continue to do and not do, about sex and baths and eight week ultrasounds. She'll see her in two days, but Santana is glad that she's thorough with her information. She _needs_ thorough, or she'll probably have a heart attack at some point during this pregnancy. Of _course_ she's excited, but also, she's so nervous that she feels bile rise in her throat.

They have a quiet night at home with Liam. Or, a night as quiet as it _can_ be with a little boy who's been cooped up in daycare all day and just wants to run everywhere he possibly can. As promised, once he's in bed and Santana took another shower to deal with the mess she made of her hair, she lies naked face down on the bed, and Brittany hovers over her. Roz told her to continue to abstain from sex for the time being, but still, just the touch of Brittany's hands on her bare back feels so intimate. The heels of her hands into Santana's neck and shoulders, working out the tension that's been keeping her up at night, and Santana feels her smile when she kisses the back of her neck.

"It's kind of unreal, isn't it?" Santana asks, turning her head so she can look at Brittany. "I think I'm still trying to process all of my emotions."

"I figured as much, that's why I'm trying to be entirely calm about it."

"You're not calm?"

"I'm _ecstatic._ Statistically, I knew that you had the right set up circumstances to make you more likely then most to get pregnant on the first try, but that doesn't take away from how I feel right now."

"I'm really glad you're so happy." She smiles, rolling onto her side and reaching for her robe.

"Are you…not?"

"No, no, I really am. Just nervous I think. I feel like you've done a ton of research. When did you even have time for that?"

"I fit it in a little on airplanes and trains. The one thing that's not so bad about traveling, I actually read things I should read anyway."

"I haven't read at _all._ That's so irresponsible."

"It's not. Your body is what's going to do the work, not your mind. I just wanted to know what had changed since the last time I researched it."

"Last time?" Santana sits up, cinching the belt around her waist.

"I'd had a fleeting thought about a decade ago that maybe I'd be interested in having a baby myself. I read a few journals, and then decided I had no interest in doing it."

"Then, or ever?" She furrows her brow, suddenly stricken with a deep concern.

"I didn't want _children_ then. I want children now. I want our son, and—" Brittany slides her hand up under Santana's robe, splaying her fingers out across her flat stomach. "I want whoever this little embryo is. If I could have dreamed up my life, it would have been this. It would have been you, laying here half-naked in our bed, after finding out we're having a baby."

"It does sound really amazing. And I think your hand there is making this feel more _real_ to me."

"Is it?"

"Yeah." Santana closes her eyes. "I'm afraid to picture it, but I am."


	55. Chapter 55

Santana doesn't get sick. Well, that's not entirely true. Santana doesn't _vomit._ Instead, she walks around for three weeks feeling like she might every waking hour of her day, and gagging when she drops by the fertility clinic to have the nurse draw her blood and tell her that her hGC levels are rising really quickly. She's queasy and exhausted, and some nights, she falls asleep in Liam's bed before she even finishes reading to him. She aches everywhere, and her breasts, despite how they've healed, feel like hot rocks against her rib cage, angry and swollen.

They haven't told anyone yet. Together, they'd decided that, even before they got the results of the pregnancy test, and they've stuck to it. Santana is still concerned, though her raging pregnancy symptoms have at least convinced her that the blood work isn't wrong. She's concerned, because she's wholly responsible for this, because every single thing she does now effects not just one someone else, but her entire family, her _wife,_ who she loves more than anything in the world. So they'll wait.

They sign Liam up for gymnastics. His physical therapist thinks it will be good for him to do something like that, and though Santana is nervous about it, nervous that he's so small, nervous that he still heavily favors his right arm, nervous that he might get hurt, she has to agree. He _should_ tumble around on the mats, he should learn how to balance, he should laugh and play, before anything like that gets too intense for it to be fun anymore.

At six-twenty-two on Saturday morning, Santana wakes up to Liam's nose pressed against the side of her face. She slept like crap, and her head hurts, but she tries not to groan as she opens her eyes. He's wearing the new sweatpants they bought him for class on backwards, with his pajama top, and a grin splits his face. Headache or not, Santana has to smile at him, so excited he could burst, and she blearily pulls him up into the bed with them.

"Mommy Noodle! I gots gynnastics, okey?" He giggles, burrowing his face into her shoulder.

"You do, Sir, but not for almost four more hours."

"I gots dressed, see? I need you to do a shirt."

"We need a little more sleep." She yawns, tired eyes fighting to stay open. "And then I promise I'll get your shirt on for you?"

"But Mommy Noodle! I's awake already."

"Hey Li." Brittany rolls over, stretching her arms over her head. "How about I get you dressed, and we let Mommy sleep a little longer?"

"But she needs'a come to gynnastics and see me!"

"She will." Brittany gathers him into her arms, and Santana watches her kiss the top of his head and breathe him in. "But I need help making breakfast first."

"I help! I help!" He squirms and wriggles, nearly falling off the bed.

Brittany settles him back on the floor, and leans over Santana, kissing her forehead, "Sorry, baby, I figured I'd be up before him. I know you didn't sleep."

"No, seriously don't be." Santana shakes her head. "I'm glad he's so excited. I'm going to try to sleep for like…five minutes, but then I'll be down."

"Don't rush." She kisses Santana's mouth, smiling against it. "You need the rest."

Once Brittany ushers Liam out of the room, Santana's five minutes of sleep turns into two hours. She's actually surprised she managed to sleep that much, and she stretches her arms over her head, letting out a huge yawn. The week has just been _extremely_ long, it's windy and rainy outside the window, and as much as she'd never miss Liam's first day of gymnastics, Santana could really curl up like a cat and hide under the covers until Monday night when she switches to the overnight shift.

Dragging herself out of bed, Santana goes into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. As she brushes, she gags a little, and sticks her head under the sink, guzzling water as quickly as possible to suppress her nausea. When she gets herself under control, she looks in the mirror and balks. So much for a pregnancy glow, that's for sure. Having barely been able to eat more than a few bites at a time, she looks a little sickly. Under her eyes are dark, and her cheeks are abnormally hot. Her hair is everywhere, but that's to be expected after a restless first half of the night, tossing pillows and turning over and over again.

Going back into the bedroom, Santana digs through her drawers, settling finally on leggings and an old Columbia zip-up hoodie. When she pulls her pajama top over her head, she looks at her abdomen in the mirror briefly, as she's done every morning since her blood test. It still looks the same, no swelling, no tell-tale sign that she's got a rapidly multiplying ball of cells in here. She's thin, and it's her first pregnancy, she's got a _lot_ of time before she starts to show, and her eyes drift up to her bare breasts. For how heavy they feel, they look exactly the same. Still scarred, still lined, but she'd be lying if she didn't admit that she has a little bit of a fascination with her repaired nipple. Maybe it's a weird thing to say…no, _definitely_ it's a weird thing to say, but it looks _good,_ it looks real, and she loves having that there.

Leaving her flat stomach and her fixed nipple aside, Santana finishes getting dressed. When she gets downstairs, the house is abnormally quiet, and she peers into the playroom and living room, before she finally finds a note on the counter for Brittany. She wanted her to have some quiet, she took Liam to the park, there's a pot of coffee, and hard boiled eggs in the fridge. Maybe Santana swoons a little over that. There's just something about these every day wife things that make her feel this surge of love for Brittany, and pouring herself a cup of coffee and snatching an egg and an orange from the refrigerator, she sits down at the table to flip through their copy of the New York Times.

The quiet is nice, and it's definitely good for Santana's raging headache, but she finds herself missing Brittany and Liam.  
—

It's strange being in the house alone. Santana can't remember the last time was was. Usually, if she and Brittany are on opposite schedules, Liam is there with her, chattering away, or at night, after Liam goes to bed, it's her and Brittany, talking, planning, kissing, just _being._ But she's alone now, or, at least alone with the person growing inside of her, and even as a person who spent most of her life alone, it's different now.

"Mommy Noodle!" Liam cries out, as Santana pours her second cup of coffee.

"She might still be sleeping, Li." Brittany tells him quietly in the foyer, but still loud enough for Santana to hear.

"Oh no! Is there a monster in the house?" Santana calls back to him, setting her mug down on the table, and waiting for her tiny tornado to blow into her arms. It takes less than twenty seconds, and then her does, appearing like a blur, and hugging her thighs.

"Mama! Mama! She's not sleepin' no more! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! I getted you this flowers!" He presents her with a bouquet of dandelions and long strands of grass. "I pickeded them!"

"You picked these just for me? Wow, Sir, I love them so much. Thank you."

"Be careful climbing on Mommy Noodle." Brittany warns him gently, stepping into the kitchen with Liam's sweatshirt in her hands. Looking at her, Santana smiles and shakes her head, informing her that she's fine.

"I so, so careful. I no break you, Mommy Noodle!"

"I know you won't. You're very gentle on my body. Good work." She kisses his forehead. "Are you very excited about gymnastics?"

"Yes! I gonna do so many gynnastics!"

"I'm sure you will." Santana smiles, her heart glittering at the way Brittany looks at her when she talks to Liam. "And look, I'm all dressed to go!"

"We can go now, okey?"

"I _think_ if we go now, we'll have plenty of time to take the subway, what do you think?"

"Yes! Yes! We take that subway. Mama? We take that subway."

"Sounds like Mommy made a really good call." Brittany nods, laughing. "Lets go."

As he always is, Liam is beside himself on the train, kneeling on the seat to stare at the map, giggly as he talks to people who get on and off, just overall _ecstatic_ that he gets to be there. Santana is still nauseous, and the rocking of the train doesn't make it much better, but she smiles at her son, thrilled to see him as happy as he is.

When they get to Liam's gymnastics class, he clams up a little. He's nervous around so many new people, though he's hardly shy, and he hangs on Brittany's leg while they wait to go into the gym. Once they're inside though, and he sees the brightly colored mats, he blooms, following the instructions of his teacher to line up. Once he's settled, Santana sits down against the wall, legs crossed beneath her, and pats the floor beside her, inviting Brittany to join her.

"How are you doing?" Brittany whispers in her ear. "You looked a little queasy on the train."

"I am. But it's…what it is. It means _something_ is happening, right?

"I'd think so, yes." She nods.

"I guess I just really need to see it, Britt, I don't know. It's stupid."

"I don't think that's stupid at all. I imagine it's a strange feeling, knowing that you have something inside of you that's completely intangible."

"Maybe that's it. Or maybe I'm just a perpetual mess of anxiety. Either one."

"Have the over the counter sleeping pills helped you at all? I know your anxiety gets worse when you don't sleep."

"A little, I guess. Unisom isn't exactly Ambien, but it's better than nothing. Maybe working nights this week will be good for me. I swear, I'm nocturnal or something."

"Do you want to switch to nights permanently?" Brittany nods in the direction of Liam, who is rolling around on the mats. Even though it's _nothing,_ Santana wants to stand up and cheer for him, but it's part of the _rules_ that she doesn't.

"I love him so much." She sighs happily. "He makes me smile so much."

"You should have seen him this morning. It took him twenty minutes to pick those flowers for you. He checked half the dandelions in the park to get you the best ones."

"He did not."

"Oh, he totally did. Here—" Brittany hands her phone to Santana, nudging her to swipe through the pictures. She grins, looking at Liam bent over, pockets full of dandelions.

"I'm sorry I missed it." She shrugs a little, looking back up at Liam.

"Don't be, you needed the sleep."

"To answer your question…" Santana shakes her head a little. "I don't want to switch to nights. That would mean no dinners every night with you and Liam, no waking up to his sleepy little face pressed against mine…and weekends my body would still be on a weird schedule. It's probably not good to do to myself while I'm pregnant either."

"Alright. I was just checking. We can make things work, if that's ever something you want to consider doing."

"I really appreciate that, Britt, and I'll let you know. But…I'm pretty sure it won't change. I never thought I'd get to say this, but family time is really important to me."

"Mama! Mommy Noodle! Mama! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! Look! Look! Look!" Liam cries out from the balance beam, where he stands with his teacher's hands around his little waist. "I doin' it! I doin' it!"

"Look at you go, Li!" Brittany cheers, breaking the rules, so Santana help but follow.

"That's my little guy!" She claps, hearing the delighted laughs of the other parents as she does. "I'm so proud of you, Sir!"

Liam absolutely loves gymnastics. When it's time to leave, he becomes indignant, and Brittany has to lift him, wailing, from the ground. They know that he's exhausted from waking up so early, and from running around all morning, but still, he's inconsolable as Santana vetoes the subway and steps out off the curb and hails a cab. He cries and hiccups all the way up Broadway, and nothing either of them can say to him calms him down. Finally, when they're a block from home, he falls asleep in Brittany's arms, red faced and swollen.

Santana pays the cab driver, and Brittany gets him inside, bringing him up to his room. Downstairs, Santana considers making lunch, but the thought of anything in the house turns her stomach. Instead, she refills her water bottle, and she sinks down onto the couch, lifting their recently delivered copy of _The Ultimate Guide to Pregnancy for Lesbians_ from the end table, and opening to the first page. She notices, when she does, that the book isn't as crisp as she'd expected, and when she inspects it further, she notices pages earmarked, and then unfolded. Realizing that Brittany has already read it, her heart thumps in her chest, and a smile spreads across her face, tamping down her anxiety as she begins the first page.

"I'm sorry I folded up so many pages."

"You _read_ all of these pages? Seriously, how do you find time to do the amount of reading you do?"

"When you and Liam were napping on the couch together last weekend, I didn't really want to leave, so I just sat and read."

"No, but really, are you a speed reader? Because I swear, you just absorb information like no one I've ever seen."

"A little." Brittany laughs, squeezing the orange in her hand and sitting down beside Santana. "Right now though, I'm really focused on knowing everything there is to know about what you're going through. I know you're anxious, and I'm making it my job to be the most supportive spouse there is."

"Brittany?"

"Yeah?"

"Seriously though, why are you like this? I honestly want to know what your parents did to make you this incredibly sensitive and compassionate person, full of so much love. You make me feel cherished, and just…safe, every day."

"I love you, Santana, and that's what I have to offer you."

"You're basically the most brilliant plastic surgeon to ever live, you're gorgeous, you're kind of rich…I think you'd have been a huge catch even if you weren't. Which…makes it _more_ amazing or something, I don't know."

"Someday you'll see what a catch you were for _me._ And you'll see how much I love your big heart, and the total joy you bring to my life."

"I'm not sure anyone has ever used those words to describe me."

"I know." Brittany sighs, as Santana scoots over and lays her head in her lap. Setting her orange on the table, Brittany runs her fingers through Santana's hair, and Santana hums contentedly. "But I mean them. The joy you bring into my life, and into Liam's life is like nothing else, and I'm so lucky to have you."

"Mmm, feels good." Santana closes her eyes at the sensation of Brittany's hands on her scalp. "Helps the ick feeling. That should be a medical term."

"Absolutely." She laughs.

"Brittany?"

"Yes?"

"I've been thinking about what to do with the baby after they're born. I can't even believe I'm already talking about this, but I've just been thinking about how that day care is swarming with germs. If we're both going to go back to work after six weeks, I don't know if I'm comfortable putting a newborn in there."

"I agree with you completely. I think we're going to have to figure out something new anyway. With Liam starting preschool in the fall, I'm just not sure how we'll be able to manage that schedule change without coming up with a new solution."

"Are we…I mean, are we considering a nanny? I'm new at this kid thing, so…"

"I had someone part time in Boston." Brittany nods. "More of an on-call kind of thing, when last minute things came up at the hospital, and my parents couldn't take Liam. They were _really_ good about working with my schedule, but sometimes, it just wouldn't work."

"I feel like…I don't know, Brittany, I feel like having someone _full time_ is different. I don't know if I'm comfortable with that either." Santana purses her lips, and thinks on it. "I wonder if my mom would be willing to help out at all. I feel like maybe I'd feel better about that, than a stranger. I don't know."

"There's nothing I want less than to make you do something that you're not comfortable with, sweetheart." Brittany presses her thumbs into Santana's temples gently. "And I like the idea of having your mom to help. She's so good with Liam."

"She _is._ I swear, I think she was really convinced she's never have grandkids, and now she's beside herself over him. Not that he's not _really_ easy to beside yourself over. But, I think given that, she'll be a really easy sell."

"My parents are coming down the weekend after next." Brittany nudges Santana's cheek a little. "You'll have had your first ultrasound by then."

"I was thinking about that before." She yawns and arches her back. "I think we should tell them."

"You think? I'd like to, but not if you're not ready."

"Honestly, once I know there's a heartbeat, I feel comfortable telling them. Our friends, work, Liam, I'd rather wait until after twelve weeks, but our parents are okay. Then I can talk to my mom too, prepare her to maybe step in when Liam starts school."

"So many big things are happening this year." Brittany marvels, leaning down to kiss Santana's lips.

"I guess we didn't waste any time, did we?"

"No." She shakes her head, laughing. "And I'm glad we didn't."

"Do you care if I sleep for like…an hour?" Santana turns her body, and settles her head more comfortably in Brittany's lap.

"Go ahead, I'll just finish this book, and maybe I'll actually start the novel that's been sitting under the magazines for six months."

"Okay, Evelyn Wood." She yawns again and stretches out. "I'll leave you to it. Let me know what you learn."

"Of course, honey. Goodnight."


	56. Chapter 56

It's a long week. Santana isn't sure if it's her exhaustion, or if interns just get worse with each passing day. By the following Friday, when she switches back to days, she's certain that Rose _must_ have figured her out, since she's had to run interference to keep her from _killing_ everyone on her service. But she doesn't mention it, and ready to pull her hair out at her desk, Santana considers using her position as the wife of a department head to get herself better interns when they do their weekly scheduling meetings.

But she doesn't. She just prays for Porter, or even Hayward—despite Santana's issue with her son, she still knows that Jane Heyward will be a damn good doctor—to be with her next week, and tries not to kill Puckerman before the day is out. She thinks of her appointment with Roz at six-o'clock, she thinks of hearing her baby's heartbeat, she thinks of Liam, she thinks of Brittany, and she decides that nothing, not even the ultimate satisfaction of shutting a thorn in her side intern up, is worth spending her life in jail, and missing all of that.

"Special delivery." Brittany knocks on the frame of Santana's office door. She's been considering shutting and locking it for the last half hour to keep her mood from seeping out, but seeing Brittany's face, Santana brightens, glad she didn't. "Salt and vinegar chips, and a cherry slush."

"You're not going to yell at me for being disgusting?"

"I'm not going to yell at you _ever._ " She steps inside with the food, and approaches Santana's desk. "If this is what you're in the mood for a two-forty-five, then it's what you're in the mood for."

"I mean, what I really want is a cherry Coke, but I'd rather not have my insides devoured by soda." Santana grimaces. "Thank you, Britt. How did you know that I was having a fucking awful day?"

"You weren't very happy to come in this morning, and I know your caseload is particularly heavy, and you didn't sleep last night because of the shift change. I wanted to come see you and make sure you're okay."

"I haven't killed anyone yet, so that's a positive, I guess. I spent half my morning hoping that my hatred for nearly every person in this hospital will go away when I'm not so sexually frustrated that I could fucking cry."

"I'm sorry about last night." Brittany runs the tip of her finger along the edge of Santana's desk. "I shouldn't have started kissing you like that, knowing it couldn't lead anywhere."

"It's not your fault." Santana shakes her head. "I really _wanted_ to kiss you like that, but then this morning I had a crazy angel-devil fight in the shower, because I came this close to shoving the showerhead between my legs. If Roz doesn't give us permission to have sex again, I'm going to lose my goddamn mind. You know I've never in my life had sex in this hospital, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't cataloging on call rooms when I did my rounds this morning."

"Rather than an on call room, what would you say to a _hotel_ room for the night?" Brittany touches Santana'a face gently, and Santana leans into the touch. "Whether Roz gives the go ahead or not, I thought maybe we could have a romantic dinner tonight, and then get away. I asked your mom if she could stay with Liam for the night."

"You did?" Santana feels a choke in her throat, and she presses her hand down on the desk. She's being _ridiculous,_ and she knows it, but still… "I…okay."

"Are you alright, Santana?"

"Yeah…yeah…I'm just…yeah."

"Okay…"

"Can you maybe just kiss me? I don't know. Sorry, I'm being…"

"It's been a long week." Brittany nods in understanding, and holds Santana's face in her hands as she kisses her slowly, softly. "I won't kiss you too much."

"Thank you." Santana lets out a watery laugh. "Because seriously, if someone walked in here to me with my hands in my pants, I might have to blame you."

"I wish I could do something to help."

" _Me_ too. It's fine, I'm fine. I'm just going to eat my chips and make myself feel better."

"At least there are chips." Brittany smiles, and kisses Santana's forehead.

"No, seriously, you don't even know."

When Brittany goes back to her own office, Santana makes every effort to eat her chips and drink her slush slowly. She already has a headache, and she figures the sodium and ice cold corn syrup _might_ put her right over the edge if she doesn't control herself. By the time she's done, she has to scrub in for a bowel resection on a two-year-old girl, and she takes an ibuprofen before she heads downstairs.

The surgery goes well, and even Puckerman is oddly…helpful. She can't stomach him, but at least, if nothing else, she can say he's a decent assistant, no matter how much he hates working in peds. Afterwards, she meets with two families to schedule upcoming surgeries, and when she's finished, a wave of nausea hits her, making her regret her choice to eat those goddamned potato chips.

For the first time, Santana vomits. As she sinks to her knees on the tile floor, she realizes that she's never been more grateful for a private bathroom than at that very moment. When she sees the cherry red spew in the toilet, reminiscent of the blood she's seen ejected more times than she'd like to count, she vomits again, and again, until she's certain that her stomach is completely empty. With her eyes wet with tears, Santana manages to stand again on shaky legs, and teeter over to the sink. Her face is blotchy and sweaty, and she splashes water in it, trying to cool herself off before she brushes her teeth.

She's certain she looks like death has come knocking when she leaves the bathroom, and without any more patients for the day, she shuts and locks her office door. She takes another ibuprofen, and she leans back in her desk chair, closing her eyes and willing the time to pass quickly until her appointment. She doesn't feel sick anymore, at least, but that doesn't mean she wants to remain in the hospital.

Finally, it's five-forty-five, and Santana packs her paperwork up to go home. Her bag feels heavy slung under her shoulder, and she tries to avoid encountering anyone in her department as she slinks to Brittany's office. When she makes it there, Brittany is just locking her door, and without a moment's hesitation, she takes Santana's things from her, and wraps her arm around her waist, hugging her close.

"So much for not getting sick." Santana groans a little. "I guess I'm never having chips again in my life. I'm pretty sure my throat is bleeding from them."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Here, do you want a Lifesaver?"

"I still think you're the first person I've known since my _abuelita_ who carries around Lifesavers." She laughs. "But, not the purple."

"I bought just the green apple ones." Brittany kisses her temple, and fishes into her bag. "Here."

"You're so good to me." She pops open the pack, and tries to ease her throats with the candy. "I can't even tell you how ready I am to do this."

"I know. It feels like we've been waiting so long."

"We kind of _have._ I'd like to hear this kid, so I know that the insane amount of weight I've gained isn't from shoveling chips down my throat."

"Have you gained a lot?" Brittany quirks an eyebrow, and rubs her hand on Santana's side.

"I don't actually know how _much,_ because I'm avoiding the scale like the plague, but I _feel_ like I have. I don't know."

Brittany doesn't say anything in response. Santana thinks that maybe she doesn't know the _right_ thing to say, but regardless, they take the elevator upstairs. As soon as they walk into the office, Santana notices that Roz is standing at the desk, and she is _so_ glad that she doesn't have to wait. Roz escorts them back, and just as Santana is about to sink down on the examination table, Roz stops her.

"Let's do your vitals first."

"Ugh, I know I'm a doctor, but seriously, I hate vitals."

"Get over it." Roz laughs, and though Santana would expect to be embarrassed, she's not. "We'll weigh you first."

"So much for avoiding the scale." Santana looks over at Brittany, who sits in a chair, chin in hand, just smiling at her. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just incredibly excited. Would you get mad if I took a picture if you?"

"If you take one of me on the scale, I'll throw your phone out the window." Santana feigns a glare, but she knows Brittany can tell she's kidding. "If you _have_ to, you can take one when I'm done."

"I'll settle for that."

Closing her eyes, Santana steps on the scale. She's not averse to gaining weight, obviously, or she wouldn't have gotten pregnant, but still, she thinks the first time will be strange for her. She has been exactly the same weight since she was seventeen, and she's sure there's a definitive change. She hears the scale beep, and she steps back off, looking at Roz, instead of the number before her.

"You've gained five-and-a-half pounds since you're last visit."

"Is that…" Santana finally looks, just to verify Roz's words. "Normal?"

"It's on the high end of normal. It's nothing to worry about, it could be a lot of bloating, but just watch your diet, especially your sodium intake."

"Okay…I'll keep an eye on that." Santana nods, sitting down on the exam table, as Roz takes out the blood pressure cuff. "You know, I really appreciate you doing my whole exam."

"You're a fellow doctor…and mostly, you're here after I sent my nurses home."

"Oh…I…sorry."

"Don't be. Just relax. You're tense."

"I guess I'm just nervous."

"The hard part is over."

"The scale part?"

"The insemination. Today's a fun visit…you get to be nervous again in seven months, when you push a watermelon out of your vagina."

"Are you…supposed to say things like that to freak me out?"

"Not saying it to freak you out, I'm just being perfectly honest. Would you rather I lie and tell you to take deep breaths and listen to relaxing music, and then you'll feel _nothing?_ "

"I mean, no. Unless you want me to scream that you were full of shit in the delivery room." Santana can't help but laugh at her, and she looks at Brittany, who tries to contain herself.

"Exactly. So let's just agree that honestly is how we roll around here." She wraps the cuff around Santana's arm, and inflates it slowly. "Good. One-ten over seventy. Open."

Roz finishes Santana's vitals, and Santana fishers in the seat while she fills out the chart. She's fairly certain that Brittany senses her anxiety, because she slides her chair over, and offers an open palm to Santana. Without a moment's hesitation, Santana takes it, and holding her wife's hand, she inhales and exhales until Roz finishes what she's writing and comes back over.

"So, I'm going to do a transabdominal ultrasound first. There's a chance we won't see anything, and if that's the case, we'll try a transvaginal."

"Yeah, that's…do what you have to do." Santana nods, and slowly lifts her shirt up so her abdomen is exposed. "Can you see, Brittany."

"I can." She smiles, taking back Santana's hand. "Good?"

"Definitely."

"Let's see what we've got." Roz squeezes gel on Santana's exposed skin, and rolls the probe over where Santana knows her uterus is. It's nerve wracking, staring at the blank screen, but she tries not to vomit again. "It's not high definition quality, but…we've got a fetus right here."

Roz turns the machine so Santana and Brittany can see better, and Santana's breath catches in her throat. The sound comes in instant later, and though Santana hadn't realize that she'd been living in a perpetually tense state of being, she feels her whole body relax at the sound of the tiny fetal heartbeat. She _knows_ fetal heartbeats are faster than a child or an adult's heartbeat, but still, it takes her by surprise. She's stunned, hearing this for the first time, and all she wants to do is throw her arms around Brittany, bury her face in her neck, just be held by her, because their baby is real, and she needs some sort of physical affection from her wife.

Through the rest of the appointment, Santana's head is elsewhere. Every day, she listens to heartbeats. Every day, she hearts the _thump, thump, thump_ of life in tiny chests. But nothing could have prepared her for this. Nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of knowing that she is sustaining a heartbeat that small, that she is nourishing and housing and protecting a baby inside her uterus. It's amazing, it's _astounding,_ and her throat is so choked with tears that she finds it nearly impossible to even respond when Roz gives her permission to resume taking baths, making love to her wife, lifting her son.

They leave the office, and Santana is quiet. She knows that Brittany understands, when she squeezes her hand and kisses her temple. Liam is waiting for them by the door when they get down to the daycare center, and Santana scoops him up into her arms, hugging him tightly, kissing the puckered skin over his eye.

"Hi Mommy Noodle! Hi!" He grins, nuzzling into her. "Guess who I's seein' today and havin' a sleepover?"

"Hmmm." She taps her chin. "Is it Santa Claus?"

"Noooo! Mama tell her! Tell her!"

"I think I might have forgotten, Li." Brittany's eyes sparkle. "Who is it?"

"Gramma Mary-Bell! Gramma Mary-Bell!"

"Grandma Maribel? Wow! You're lucky!"

"I know! I know! And guess who's comin' to see me t'morrow?"

"I know this one! Grandma and Grandpa!"

"Yes! Yes! They comin' from Boston!"

"And I _heard—_ " Brittany smiles. "That you're going to help us cook dinner for them."

"Hot dogs! Hot dogs!"

"I don't think we're going to make hot dogs, but how about we make a big chicken?"

"I _love_ that big chicken! Yes! Yes!"

Brittany drives home, and Maribel is already inside when they get there. Santana doesn't waste any time packing her things, even though she's still a little nauseous. Her whole body feels the weight of emotion, and she thinks it'll be really good for her to just be somewhere in private with her wife. With her overnight bag packed, she goes back downstairs, and Brittany is sitting on the floor with Liam reading to him. Santana just smiles, and she leans into her mom's side, who's watching them.

"Are you okay tonight, _mija?_ You're quiet."

"Yeah…yeah, I'm good. Just tired, I think. I'm glad it's the weekend, and seriously, thanks for staying here tonight. I think Brittany just knew I needed this tonight."

"I'm always happy to watch Liam. Any time, I mean that sincerely."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm so glad to have a grandson. I never thought I'd get an instant toddler, but I can't tell you how glad I did."

"Trust me, mom." Santana feels her heart start to race, thinking of the secret she's keeping. "No one is more surprised by the turn of events in my life than I am."

When Brittany finishes Liam's book, she closes it, and gets back on her feet. They say their goodbyes, hugging both Liam and Maribel, and they get a cab downtown. After they check into their hotel and get up to their room, Santana flops back on the bed, kicking off her shoes. She needs to get dressed for dinner, she knows that laying down was the _worst_ idea, but the bed is comfortable, and she can't help herself.

"Hey." Brittany perches on the bed beside her, and brushes Santana's hair from her face.

"I'm getting up, I swear."

"Don't push yourself if you don't want to. You've had a hell of a work week, and if you want to just lay down and sleep, I'm fine with that."

"I don't." Santana shakes her head, forcing herself to sit up. "I'm determined not to use our date night for me to pass out on you. I _really_ want to put on the dress I packed and go to dinner. Then? I especially want to come back here and be naked with you."

"As long as you're up for it, you're not going to get any arguments here." Brittany laughs. "I'll start getting dressed."

Santana drags herself up off the bed, and she goes into the bathroom to splash water on her face and brush her teeth. The sheer level of exhaustion she feels every day still shocks her, but she's determined not to let it get the best of her, determined not to do any less than she was before she got pregnant. Quickly, she zips herself into a short black dress, and pulls her hair into a loose bun. When she goes back out into the room, Brittany is dressed, and Santana inhales sharply, taking in Brittany's beauty.

"You look amazing." Santana wraps her arms around Brittany from behind, and stands on her tip toes so she can rest her chin on her shoulder. "I really love you, Brittany Pierce."

"The feeling is mutual, Santana. You don't even know how I feel after today."

"It's pretty weird, isn't it? There's like…a human inside of me."

"There is." Brittany turns in Santana's arms and presses her hand gently against her abdomen. "I'm so in love with the whole thing."

"I'm kind of in love with it too." She kisses Brittany's chin and up to her mouth. "That was just…beyond my wildest dreams today. I don't even know. It's a _heartbeat,_ and how many of them have we heard in our lives, you know? But this is like…ours?"

"I know. There's something about it. When Liam got out of his first surgery, I listened to his heart for a long time. This is different, of course, but, it reminds me of that a little, just the awe of knowing that my little person is there."

"Your little person." Santana sighs, content. "I love that."

At dinner, Santana is so grateful she managed to pull herself out of bed. Brittany made reservations at a tiny French restaurant, and it's so romantic that Santana feels dizzy. Their love story was never a whirlwind, it was something so much deeper than that, with Santana falling in love with Brittany's son, and Brittany managing motherhood, a seventy hour a week job, cross country travel and dating Santana all at once. But this, tonight, feels like something out of a movie, Santana thinks. In their private booth, the chef prepares a feast for them, and though Santana isn't drinking wine, she sips her iced tea and sidles up to Brittany as she slips bites of food into her mouth.

She's buzzing when they're through, and Brittany wraps an arm around her waist as they walk back to the hotel. It's a beautiful early summer night, but Santana is anxious to get back to their room. She's been controlling her desire for weeks, but now, now that Brittany has done this, now that they've had such an emotional day together, Santana aches to feel her wife's skin pressed against her. She aches to thread her fingers though long blonde hair. She aches for that physical intimacy so much that her knees buckle, and she has to blame her shoes.

They get back up to the hotel room, and Santana attempts to exercise some restraint. She slips her shoes off, and she goes to her bag, looking through for the pajamas she knows she didn't pack. As she stands there, touching the jeans she'd brought for the morning, Brittany presses into her back, pressing a kiss to the side of her face.

"Mmm. Feels good." Santana hums, weaving her fingers with Brittany's on her thighs. "I didn't bring my pajamas."

"I have an extra pair of sweats, if you need them." Brittany says absently, though her fingertips play with the hem of Santana's dress.

"I'd rather not."

"Are you sure you're not too tired? I know it's been a long day."

"Not too long for this." Santana exhales sharply, feeling Brittany's fingers caress the part of her thighs.

She closes her eyes, and takes in the buzz beneath her skin at her wife's touch. Maybe it's early pregnancy, maybe it's that she's gone Without for so many weeks, or maybe it's just because she never tires of Brittany's touch, but just from the gentlest of touches, Santana feels weak.

As Brittany's hand trails higher, fingering the soft lace of Santana's panties, her knees wobble again, and she presses her full weight against Brittany. Involuntarily, her legs spread, and Brittany takes that as an opportunity to dance her fingers along where lace meets bare skin. They creep, creep closer to being inside the material, and Santana resists the twin urges to buck into Brittany's hand or shove her own between her folds to handle the ache that spreads like molten fire.

"I need you inside of me." Santana gasps.

"Hmmm?"

Ignoring her plea, Brittany continues to trace Santana's folds, pressing the lace into her burning skin. For every torturous second, she regrets having worn panties at all, and she drops her head back against Brittany's shoulder, turning her face toward her neck. Her teeth nip at the tender skin there, and she feels her rapid patter of Brittany's heart against her teeth. She knows her own is hammering just as hard, and she gasps for breath as Brittany backs her up against the hotel bed.

She falls back against the soft sheets, and Brittany sheds her dress before her hands go up Santana's back, and removes hers as well. A shiver runs through her body as the cool hair pricks her skin, but Brittany's hand, cupping her breast through her bra warms her again. She loves this, she hates this, she wants the torture to end, and she wants it to continue forever. Brittany pushes her thighs up, and though she's still covered in lace, Santana feels open, bared.

While Santana kisses Brittany's lips, she feels the nimble fingers on her back unclasping her bra. Lips leave hers, and trail down, exploring her clavicle, her shoulder blade, her hardened nipples. Her thigh muscles tense, and she pushes up, desperate to bear down on something, desperate for Brittany's fingers.

"I love you." Brittany whispers, moving lower, pressing her lips to Santana's naval, spreading open palms on either side.

Santana whines, pushing herself up on her elbows so she can watch, and she's glad Brittany's hair is still pulled back, glad she has a full view of her face as she kisses lavender lace. Hot breath on Santana's sex nearly makes her collapse back into the pillows, but she fights to keep her bearings, fights to keep her eyes open to see something so gorgeous. Moving lower, Brittany's tongue probes Santana's entrance, but the barrier keeps Santana from the satisfaction she so desperately craves.

"Baby, please." Santana begs. "You're killing me. You've loved me enough, just… _please_ fuck me before I die."

"I could never love you enough." Brittany doesn't lift her mouth to laugh, but her thumbs hook Santana's waistband, sliding down, down, until she's completely naked.

Santana's hands thread through Brittany's hair, urging Brittany to comply with her needs, but Brittany doesn't need the encouragement. She presses the flat of her tongue against Santana, before her lips suck Santana's clit, and her fingers begin a furious pace, thrust, suck, thrust, suck, until the coil at the pit of Santana's stomach springs, and her elbows give way beneath her.

"Fuck." She cries out, every cell vibrating. "Oh fuck."

"Good?" Brittany slides back up Santana's body, her fingers continuing to thrust gently in and out of her, coaxing a second smaller orgasm from Santana as she kisses her lips, and Santana's curls her tongue around one coated with her own arousal.

"Earth shattering." Santana's voice quivers as she laughs. "Come up here."

"I _am_ up here." Brittany laughs in response, but Santana presses her fingers into Brittany's thighs, urging her to move.

"No, up _here._ I _need_ my lips on you, and I can't move."

"Oh…okay." Her skin pricks with excitement, and Santana loves the effect she has on her wife. "You're sure you're not—"

"The only thing I'm sure of right now is needing you."

Before she moves, Brittany kisses Santana one more time, slow, deep, so full of love and adoration. Santana sucks in a deep breath when Brittany's fingers slip from inside of her, but the feeling of loss is countered when Brittany lowers herself down onto her face. Muscular thighs muffle any outside sound, and Santana breathes through her nose, trying to map Brittany's sex with only her mouth and her memory.

It's the most intimate thing she's ever done, Santana is certain of that at once. Her body still burns and buzzes with the remnants of her second orgasm, but it's her chest that aches, recognizing the depths of her love for Brittany as she pleasures her. She can't see, and it's difficult to breathe, but she feels _alive,_ in a new sort of way, finding the right places that make Brittany moan and drop her head against the headboard so hard that the bed frame shakes.

When Brittany comes, she only lets her body go slack for a brief moment, before she moves off of Santana, and she collapses on her side beside her. Her whole body is flushed, and Santana takes it in, awed by her beauty. It takes a few minutes for Santana to regain her breath, but when she does, she lifts her head to kiss Brittany, smiling into it as she does.

"God that felt good." Santana inhales deeply, as Brittany trails her fingers over the warm skin of Santana's abdomen. "And exactly what I needed."

"Definitely made the stress of the week fade away. And I've been waiting so patiently to kiss all over your body again."

"I could tell." She laughs, shaking her head. "This was really nice, thank you for making a night for us."

"It was much needed for me too. I _do_ love getting to sleep naked with you."

"Well, I can promise you that'll be any minute, because I'm like three seconds from going all Rip Van Winkle on you."

"I'm honestly surprised you made it this long. Go to bed, then maybe you'll be up early enough to do that again." Brittany waffles her eyebrows and smirks.

"Maybe you should just go ahead and set an alarm…"


	57. Chapter 57

When they tell their parents after Liam goes to bed on Sunday night, they're overjoyed. Before they can even ask Maribel about watching the baby, she volunteers, telling them that she could use something to fill up her days, and that she'd been considering offering to help with Liam before this, but didn't want to step on any toes. As excited as this all makes Santana, she's incapable of staying awake to enjoy it. She's too nauseous, and it seems that the only balm for it is sleep.

There's a heat wave the next week, and when the power goes out in a potion of upper Manhattan on a day where the downpouring rain doesn't lift the heat, the hospital switches over to the emergency generators. As hot and sick and irritated as Santana is, she can't help but smile to herself, thinking how a power outage is what got her into this situation to begin with.

Sylvester postpones all non-emergency surgeries, and after Santana walks the floor to calm down her patients and their families, she finds herself sitting at her desk in the dim light, with her eyes closed, trying to will away her nausea. She's completely refused to take time off of work, instead, vomiting secretly in her bathroom and brushing her teeth at least three times during the world day, and today is no exception.

"Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle." She hears Liam cry, and her eyes fly open, full of concern.

"Liam! Whats wrong?"

"It getted so, so _dark_ and I getted 'fraid!"

"Oh no!" Santana stands up, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her as she approaches where Brittany stands holding him. "That's no fun."

"No way!"

"I didn't even think about that." She sucks in a breath looking at Brittany. "I'm sorry."

"Santana, no, I didn't either." Brittany shakes her head. "They called me, so I went to get him. Do you have any surgeries?"

"No, they're all cancelled. Are yours?"

"They are, but Sue asked me to help her in the pit. Can Liam hang out with you for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Hmmm." Santana leans in and tickles Liam's belly. "What do you think, Sir? Do you want to play in my office today?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! I needs to get the markras!"

"The markers, huh? Are you going to draw something new for me to hang up?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! And for Mama!"

"Then I think we're going to have a really fun day." She takes him from Brittany's arms, swallowing back the bile that seems to be incessantly present in her throat. "Britt, you're sure you don't need me down there?"

"It's actually relatively calm for now. If I can avoid paging you, I will. But Li, baby, if I need Mommy's help, you're going to go back to school with your flashlight, okay?"

"I no like the dark there." He shakes his head, burying his face in Santana's shoulder. "I can stay with Mommy Noodle."

"I'll take care of it." Santana looks at Brittany, nodding her head. "I've got it."

"Okay." She leans in and kisses Santana's lips. "Drink more water."

"Why?" Santana sucks her lips into her mouth, feeling if they're chapped. "Are they gross?"

"No, it's just hot, and you're really warm. I don't want you to dehydrate."

"I'm trying." She sets Liam down and lowers her voice to a whisper. "It's just on the list of things that make me sick, along with…everything else."

"Are you sure you don't want to go home? I can talk to Sue, tell her it's a childcare thing…"

"Please don't. I'm really trying to go under the radar a little longer, and I don't want anything to give it away yet. I'm already gaining weight way too fast, and I really was hoping to get to sixteen weeks without saying anything here. That's still _six_ weeks from now, and somehow I'm ballooning and I'm hardly eating. I can stick it out for the day, and hopefully you don't need me. But Britt?"

"Yeah?"

"Just…" She looks over at Liam, tugging at the toy bin she keeps under her desk. "If you need me, don't treat me like your pregnant wife. Page me like you would anyone else."

"Okay…"

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Santana never gets paged. It makes her anxious, but she distracts herself with Liam, sitting on the floor with him and writing letters under the yellow glow of the generator lights. When six o'clock rolls around, she starts cleaning up the mess they made, and she sighs heavily, glad she's gone the four hours without getting sick. If she's being honest with herself, sometimes she feels like maybe she bit off more than she could chew, that maybe she isn't as cut out for this as she thought. Inside, she loves the idea that she's carrying a baby, that she and Brittany are expanding their family. But there's also a strange nagging sensation, like she's too dramatic, like Brittany must think she's weak because of how tired and sick and irritable she is, even if she'd never say it.

The power is still out when Brittany comes back up to her office. She's wearing scrubs, her hair is pulled up in a bun on top of her head, and she looks _exhausted._ It's obvious she'd been in surgery, and Santana sighs, knowing just how much it sucks to do emergency surgeries when the power is out. Physically, it's almost the same with the generators, but mentally, it's draining, afraid something will go wrong without the full arsenal of tools to fix it. She pushes herself to her feet as Liam runs to Brittany and hugs her leg, and Brittany just shrugs, cocking her head to the side.

The traffic lights are out all the way home, and it takes them nearly an hour to make it back. Using the flashlight on her phone, Santana lights the way into the house, and Liam shrieks and clings to her, now that the sun is going down, and everything looks even more frightening than in the light of day. Brittany lights candles everywhere, and because they don't know how long it'll be until the power comes back on, they don't open the refrigerator, and instead, eat peanut butter sandwiches and sliced apples for dinner, Liam sitting on Brittany's lap as he has his.

Hoping there's enough hot water in the reservoir, They take turns with the fastest showers the can manage, putting Liam in first, since they know a bath will tap it out completely. Because Santana insisted on going last, there's a chill at the end, but given how hot the house is, even with all the windows open and a slight cross breeze, she can't even complain about it.

With Liam in Brittanys arms, and sheets and pillows in Santana's, they go back downstairs. It's insufferable on the second floor, and together, they blow up the mattress and make the bed up, figuring it'll be better if they sleep down there. By the time they're done, Santana is dripping sweat, and she sinks down into the chair, completely winded.

"Mommy Noodle, you sleepy?" Liam asks, candlelight flickering across his face.

"I _am,_ Sir, and I think maybe it's way past your bedtime."

"I gonna sleep in this balloon bed with you, okey?"

"Come on Li, hop on up." Brittany pats the mattress, and he scrambles up, bouncing as he does. "Percy, check! Blanket, check! Liam, check!"

"You so silly, Mama." He giggles, curling up with all of his things.

"Close your eyes, love, I'll sing you to sleep."

The sound of Brittany's voice lulls Santana, until she's almost in a trance. In a strange sort of instinctive way, she rests her hand on her stomach, and she hardly notices she does it. She's gained weight, definitely, but it's too early to have a bump. Instead, her just rests on the chunk that's developing, and she closes her eyes, listening to Brittany sing lullaby renditions of early-nineties pop songs to put Liam to sleep.

"Do you want to go to bed, Santana?" Brittany startles her from her half-asleep state, but she shakes her head.

"I haven't seen you all day. Come sit with me."

"Hi." Brittany murmurs, fitting herself into the space beside Santana on the chair. Santana studies her face, shadowed in the orange glow of the candle on the table beside them.

"Hey. Are you okay? You're quiet tonight?"

"I'm okay." She nods, resting her head on Santana's shoulder. Despite the heat, Santana doesn't mind the closeness, and she brushes the hair from Brittany's face so she can look into her eyes. "A girl died on my table today. I knew he was going to before I even got in the room, but…well, you know how it is."

"What happened?" Santana sucks in a breath, knowing firsthand how little comfort there is in the aftermath of that.

"Fireworks. Her boyfriend and their friend decided the light that off in the apartment earlier, and she took one to the face."

"Ugh." Though she tries not to, Santana can't help the visceral cringe. "I'm sorry, Britt, that's awful."

"I just find myself getting angry in situations like that. It's part of the reason I'm not particularly fond of summer, I deal with too many firecracker injuries. Usually it's a drunken mistake, but these kids were sober and dangerous."

"What would even posses someone to light one off in the house?"

"Stupidity." Brittany spits bitterly. "No awareness of the ramifications of that sort of careless act. It makes me sick. Sorry…I don't mean to be so angry now that I'm home with you."

"You can be angry. Shit, you know how I get, I'd be fuming."

"No, I know, and I love that you _get_ it, but I hate bringing this kind of thing home with me."

"We can change the subject, if you want, Brittany."

"Can we?" Brittany arches her back and cracks it. "I can't believe the power has been out this long."

"I know. It's been, what, a decade since we've had a blackout like this?"

"More than that, I think. I remember watching it on TV in the lounge at Brigham and being astounded."

"I was still doing my _undergrad._ God, I was supposedly 'home' for the summer, but I spent almost every night sleeping on Mercedes' couch. Her mom started setting an extra plate for me." Santana shakes her head. "My parents got divorced that fall."

"That must have been really hard for you, in college and dealing with all that."

"Honestly? I spent ten years before that hoping that my father just wouldn't come home from work ever again, so I was relieved when she left him. Mercedes bought me a drink in the bar that night to toast to it."

"I'm glad you're out of that situation, and your mom too. She's such a good person."

"She is." Santana nods. "She loves me, and she did the best she could for me while she was in an abusive marriage. I think she thinks doing things with our kids is a second chance for her. Anyway…we were talking about the blackout and I just completely sidetracked the conversation."

"It's not sidetracking." Brittany shakes her head, splaying her hand out over Santana's tank top on her abdomen, just letting it rest there _because._ "I know it's hard for you to talk about your past, so whenever you do, I'm more than willing to listen."

"It's okay, I'm good. It's just funny the things you remember from a day like that, you know? I can distinctly remember wearing red Converse and sitting on the steps outside of the library when everyone started to panic. Mercedes and I saw _28 Days Later_ the night before and she started making a plan to escape the city in case the Rage virus was starting."

"I can picture that." Brittany smiles, kissing the top of Santana's head. "I also think it's so amazing that the two of you have been friends for so long."

"We're just kind of stuck with each other. I actually feel kinda bad I haven't made time to have dinner with her. I guess I feel weird about _not_ telling her I'm pregnant if I do."

"Do you _want_ to tell her?"

"I do. I don't actually know what my issue, is, Britt. I got so weird about telling our parents, and now this. Like, am I afraid of good things?"

"Maybe you are. I'm saying that with so much love, Santana, but I still don't think you believe good things happen for you, and you're afraid when they do."

"I know…I really do know that I am." Santana shakes her head. "I'm just…honestly terrified something might happen. I'm always anxious, and I know that my psychiatrist said the medication I'm still on is safe, but…things happen. We're doctors, we _see_ things happen. I don't want to be one of the ones it happens to. The more people who know, the more real it is, and the worse it is if something does."

"I understand that." Brittany nods. "I just worry about how much you keep bottled up. I'm not telling you what you should do, but maybe going out with Mercedes and talking to her, whether about that or not, would be a good thing. She knows your past in a way that I don't, and I do think that she understands you in a certain way."

"Maybe I'll try to go out with her next week. Then I'll make a decision if I'm going to tell her. I mean, if I'm not already showing by then, I feel _gigantic,_ and I know Roz is going to tell me that I'm gaining weight too fast still at my next appointment. I don't even know how it's possible, when I'm puking all the time."

"You're eating healthy, Santana. She just has to tell you the normal range, but your body might just be reacting differently. If you're craving the cherry slushes, I think you should be able to have them."

"Don't think I wasn't thinking about them today when I knew I couldn't get one." Santana can't help but laugh. "The minute the power comes back on, i _need_ one."

"I promise I'll make that happen. I guess the heat can't be making you feel that great."

"Yeah, not so much. If my mother still had power, we'd probably be staying there tonight."

"Do you want me to sleep with Liam on the couch so you have more space?"

"No. Absolutely not." She looks over to Liam sleeping in the center of the air mattress. "But I think I do need to go to bed, you look pretty exhausted too, and I'm pretty sure I might pass out right here."


	58. Chapter 58

It takes thirty-five hours for the power to come back on in the city. On the second day, the hospital is overflowing with patients, some feigning illness to escape the brutal concrete trapped heat, others actually ill from the heat, and still more injured from accidents as a result of the general chaos that tends to ensue when the world carries on without power. Along with everyone else in the hospital, and despite Brittany's pleas that she take it easy, Santana works herself to the bone that day, staying long after Brittany takes Liam home.

The afternoon of her twelve-week scan, and three days before Liam's birthday party, Santana finally had lunch with Mercedes. All morning, she's weird about it, checking her weight gain in the mirror in her office bathroom, wrinkling her nose at the fact that she's gotten _thick_ but not round. It's normal, she guesses, not to be traditionally showing so early, but she figured if she's gaining this much weight, she'd probably prefer a bump that Brittany's hands could be all over, rather than pudge that Brittany keeps telling her looks so sexy.

After her morning thoracotemy, Santana changes out of her scrubs and into the loose fitting dress she'd worn into work. Mercedes made reservations at the Cuban restaurant they've been frequenting since they were undergrads, and even, occasionally, through the financially challenged years of medical school, when dinner there meant they'd have to skip two weeks at the bar. When Santana gets there, Mercedes is already in their booth in the corner, and she takes a deep breath, before she saunters over and slips into the booth.

"Sorry I'm late, I didn't get started until forty-five minutes after I was scheduled, panicky mom."

"You'd have been late anyway." Mercedes shakes her head, laughing. "I ordered _croquetas._ "

"Wow, fifteen years, and you're finally sounding less like you're from Nassau County when you say that."

"Psht. Girl, I'm born and raised in New York City, quit insulting me with that Long Island business. Don't think I forget where you're from."

"Whatever, I got out of there the second I could."

"So what the hell is new with you? You get married and then you fall off the face of the earth?"

"You were _just_ over for dinner." Santana rolls her eyes. "Like…shit, has it really been that long since we did that?"

"It's fine." Mercedes clicks her tongue. "You know, just got married, got pregnant with my first kid, no big deal."

"You…excuse me, what?" She can feel that the color drained from her face in shock, but then Mercedes starts laughing and Santana sucks in a breath.

"Wow you feel for that _easy!_ You think I wouldn't tell you if I was married and-or pregnant?"

"Ummm….well." Santana bites her lip and raises her eyebrows. "That's…actually something I wanted to tell you today."

Mercedes doesn't say a word in response. Her jaw just drops, and some kind of uncharacteristic squeal comes out of her, before she's up from her seat and hugging Santana. She doesn't let go, not for a long while, and something about the love and support from her best friend calms Santana in a way she hasn't felt since she'd first decided she wanted to do this. When they finally sit back down, she's flushed and smiling, and she smooths her dress, sipping her water.

"So are you going to tell me _everything?_ Because, I sincerely expect you to."

"Even about my current perpetual nausea?"

"Whatever you want. I want to hear it all."

"Your not mad I waited to tell you?"

"Number one, I don't know how long you waited, number two, I know you. That's your _thing._ I probably _still_ wouldn't know you got into med school if your letter didn't fall out of your backpack."

"I don't like to jinx things, okay? I'll be twelve weeks on Liam's birthday so…almost out of the danger zone."

"Oh my _God._ Does Corcoran know? Are you taking time off?"

"Do you really think Shelby knows before _you?_ Only my mom and Brittany's parents know, we haven't even told Liam yet."

"How did Maribel react?"

"Beside herself, of course." Santana nods her gratitude when the waiter brings over the _croquetas_ and the seltzer Mercedes must have ordered for her, and then thanks him out loud before he leaves. "She's going to watch Liam and the baby in the fall. So, to answer your other question, no, I'm not taking off, not more than six weeks. I think I'd lose my mind, and you _know_ I love Liam, and I love this blob baby too."

"Blob baby. I can't with you. I also feel like I'm living in a parallel universe. You're married and pregnant, I've been dating this white boy for longer than I ever thought possible…"

"How _is_ White Chocolate?" Leaning back in the booth, Santana takes a sip of her seltzer.

"He's good, you know, Sam. Big lovable idiot. I think I'm going to ask him to move in with me."

" _Really?"_ Santana gasps. "But you hate people living with you."

"Pot calling the kettle black much? Last I checked you're living with two, and have one living _in_ you."

"Okay, fair. But really, that's awesome. I definitely never thought we'd be _here._ I kind of figured we'd live in the bar until someone carted us off to a nursing home somewhere."

"I can assure you I'm _never_ going to a nursing home, Lopez. If I don't have kids, I'm borrowing yours to take care of me."

"It'll be Liam, you think this kid with _my_ DNA is going to take care of your ass?"

"Probably better than _anyone._ " Mercedes laughs. "You forget I know you, and the way you bend over backwards."

The rest of lunch is really good. Santana realizes how much she had missed hanging out with Mercedes day in and day out. She's at ease, sitting in that restaurant, joking about their lives, teasing about the future, reminiscing about the past, and it calms her down for her afternoon pyloromyotomy. She needs to go back to doing this regularly, she needs to have Mercedes to the house more, she needs to learn how to balance, even though she wants to spend every moment she's not working with Brittany and Liam. Mercedes is a part of her family, she's been for so long, and Santana wants her to know that she still has a big, welcoming place for her.

There are complications in the surgery in the afternoon, and it takes three hours to repair a pylorus that should have taken one. But the patient is fine, and Santana brings him lollipops while she's still wearing her scrubs. It takes away from the five minutes she usually gets to peek in and see Liam in the later afternoon, but it's okay. He understand, and he's especially aware, whenever Santana tells him she went to bring lollipops to someone who was sick.

She has a department meeting that she's almost late for, but she manages to change again, and make it in just on time, slipping into the seat Rose had saved for her.

Throughout the whole thing, she's nauseous from the _ropa vieja_ she greedily inhaled, but she keeps sneaking mints from her bag, trying to avoid vomiting all over Adams' bright turquoise sneakers. When Shelby is finally done talking, Santana is about to escape out the conference room door, when she hears Shelby call her name. Taking a deep breath, Santana turns around slowly, attempting to keep from jostling her body too quickly, and upsetting her already shaky stomach further.

"Hey, Shelby. What's going on?" Santana watches the room empty out, and she leans against the back of a chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I didn't want to bring it up in the meeting—" Shelby starts, and Santana feels her limbs go cold, assuming she _knows._ "But I know we're both busy, and I figured it would save us both some time to quick talk this out here."

"Okay…"

"Sue's daughter has a tracheoesphageal fistula that I've been monitoring, and as you're one of the only doctors in this hospital who's both an exceptional surgeon, and can keep your mouth shut, I need you to assist me next week."

"Oh…" She exhales, trying not to let her breath be too audible. "That's all?"

"Yeah." Shelby cocks her head to the side. "Why, is there something else?"

"Uh, no. No…nothing else. Just…you know how I get when I think I'm in trouble, or whatever."

"Santana." She laughs. "You've never been in trouble, even when you were an intern, and everyone _else_ was. I'm adding Robin to your rounds tomorrow. She's up on the eleventh floor, for privacy, and I'll meet you there at say…ten?"

"Yeah, yeah, definitely. Um, whatever you want."

"Are you sure you okay, Santana? You seem a little off."

"Yeah, no, I'm good. Thanks for trusting me, Shelby."

Before it gets any more uncomfortable, Santana leaves the conference room. When she gets back to her office, she drops to her knees in the bathroom and vomits up everything in her stomach. The combination of Cuban food and nerves did her in entirely, and if she didn't _still_ feel nauseous when she stood back up, maybe the act of vomiting would feel more satisfying. But instead, her stomach is still sick as she brushes her teeth, and she has to swallow back her gags so she doesn't throw up again.

When she comes back out of the office, Brittany is sitting on the couch holding a cherry slushee. Santana wants to throw her arms around her and kiss her until the end of time. Maybe the sugar is making her gain weight too quickly, but they're the only things that seem to momentarily quell her nausea, and right now, it's exactly what she needs.

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice." Brittany winks, standing up and kissing Santana's lips as she hands over the drink. "How was lunch? How was your meeting?"

"Lunch was good, except the puking up the food part. But I made an idiot out of myself with Shelby. I think she thinks I'm insane."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, I just got so weird that I know she knows I'm hiding something, and I'm just…so bad at not acting evasive."

"I'm sure she'll put it out of her head quickly, honey. Everyone has off days, she'll probably chalk it up to that."

"I guess so…I mean, I'm going to have tell her soon anyway, I guess. I really just want to get through the weekend, and the party."

"You're sure you're up for it, Santana? You know Liam would be just as happy going to waterlab and having pizza."

"I'm sure, it's my first birthday as his mommy, and his first big party. I don't care how I feel, I'm going to make sure he gets to have a good one."

"Alright…I just want to make sure you'll be okay, especially with how hot it's been."

"I appreciate that, but I'm good." Santana kisses Brittany's lips again, her own already cherry stained. "Are you ready do go do this? I guess we're finally going to see this kid today."

"I certainly hope so." Brittany laughs, squeezing Santana's hand. "I'm pretty excited."

"Me too. _So_ excited."

Santana locks her office, and together, she and Brittany go to the elevator. Roz's office is busier than it usually is when they get there, and Santana can't help but smile at the other pregnant women, imagining herself growing in the same kind of way. Once Brittany is seated beside her, Santana rests her head on her shoulder, and closes her eyes.

"Honey." Brittany whispers, and Santana snaps her head up, realizing she'd fallen asleep. "They're calling you in."

"Wow." She laughs, standing up and smoothing her dress. "I can't believe I fell asleep. I guess I was really exhausted. What else is new?"

"You're very cute." With a kiss to Santana's temple, Brittany stands up, and puts her hand on the small of Santana's back.

They go back into the exam room, and Santana changes into the pair of clean scrubs pants and a t-shirt she'd tossed into her bag. She's not sure why she's so _nervous._ It's just a scan, she's had one before, but yet…the nausea she'd felt after talking to Shelby is still there, and she doesn't want to throw up on the nurse who is checking her blood pressure and her weight.

"Are you alright?" Brittany asks her, when she settles down on the exam table to wait for Roz.

"Yeah. I'm just, weird, I don't know. I guess it's been a day."

"I'm sorry you're anxious." She squeezes Santana's hand, knowing without Santana having to say the word just how she feels.

"We're going to see our baby though, and I _am_ excited, I swear."

"Santana, you can feel whatever you feel, I'm here for you."

"Still haven't figured it out, Britt."

"How you feel?"

"How I got so lucky. I don't know, having lunch with Mercedes—" She's interrupted by a knock on the door, and she shakes her head.

"Hey there, mamas!" Roz pokes her head in. "Sorry I had to send the nurse in today."

"It's fine." Santana forces a smile. "She's nice."

"I told her to stop doing that." Roz chuckles. "How are you feeling?"

"Still sick, and pretty anxious, but…good."

"Good is great. And you, Brittany?"

"Me?" Brittany looks surprised. "I'm good. Hot, but good."

"Brutal weather, huh?" Roz plays around with the machine, and Santana slowly lifts her shirt. "Looks like you might pop soon."

"Really? Because I feel like I ate a hundred donuts."

"Try to refrain from that." She smiles. "Okay, let's see your baby."

Santana holds her breath while Roz squeezes the gel on her abdomen. She stares at the screen, waiting, waiting, waiting, until she hears the sound of the beating heart. The picture comes into view, and Santana sucks in a breath, starting to choke and gag a little with all of the emotion that hits her.

"Britt."

"Santana." Brittany stares intently at the scan. "Santana."

"Wait, what?"

"Santana. _Look._ "

"I'm looking. I'm loo—holy fuck. Roz, is that…?"

"Dealing with doctors." Roz laughs, shaking her head. "I don't even get to spill the surprise."

"It's…no seriously, it's…Britt, can you just _say_ it?" Santana starts sobbing, totally beyond control of her emotions. "Did it…?"

"It did."

"Brittany Pierce, say it." She buries her face in Brittany's chest, crying so hard she thinks she might throw up. "Please."

"It's…there are _two?_ "

"There are two." Roz confirms, though her words are muffled for Santana. "It looks like the egg split, and you've got identical twins in there."

"Holy. Fucking. Shit."


	59. Chapter 59

Santana thinks she might be in shock. She can barely focus for the rest of her appointment, and she clings to Brittany. For strength, for love, for reassurance, for just…something she can't articulate. She realizes she feels absolutely _terrified,_ especially when Roz tells them that she's going to classify her as high risk, since she's pregnant with multiples. It's a _lot,_ and she isn't sure how to put it into words.

The whole night, she's quiet, and Brittany gives her space. Santana is desperate for Brittany to know that she's not _upset,_ but every time she tries to speak, she starts to cry. It's just a shock. When they'd only implanted one egg, she hadn't even thought to picture more than one baby. But now that she knows there are two, that she's growing _identical twins,_ she's trying to re-envision the future. Two babies. Two more little human beings in her house. A pregnancy that could be dangerous. It's terrifying and beautiful and exciting, so she can't stop crying.

Brittany holds her all night. She doesn't sleep, and she's pretty sure Brittany doesn't either. But they lay together in silence, Santana feeling a degree of calm in Brittany's arms. The next day at work, Santana is in a daze. She manages to get through her meeting with Sylvester and Shelby and five-year-old Robin, but she's sure her face is still obscenely swollen from her emotional night. For the rest of it, she's glad that she's working on a case with Rose, because there's something in her demeanor that forces Santana to focus, but also, it relaxes her, knowing she's with someone else capable.

Saturday, they run around after gymnastics for Liam's party. Santana is sure Liam knows something is going on, because he keeps stopping to hug her around the waist, and say _Love you, Mommy Noodle._ She feels terrible about that, that her emotions are effecting her son, but she doesn't know what to do about it.

It continues into the evening, when they decorate the house after Liam goes to bed. She and Brittany make small talk, while they hang the decorations—Brittany insistent that Santana doesn't get up on a chair—and lay his gifts out on the sofa. It's strange, Santana _knows_ it's strange, but she still isn't sure how to explain how's she's feeling.

Santana stands in the shower for a long time, looking down at her abdomen. There are two human beings in there. She's responsible for two lives. Knowing she was responsible for _one_ felt like one almost too grave, but two…the things that could go wrong make her vomit, blood red from her last slushee swirling down the drain.

She's crying again when she gets out. She hates the look of concern on Brittany's face when she sees her like that, so she puts on a sweatshirt and shorts and crawls into her arms again. She's safe there. The babies are safe. Nothing can go wrong when Brittany's strength keeps them together. For a short period of time, she manages to cry herself to sleep, but she wakes up again with a start, the darkness in the room leaving her grasping for Brittany's hands.

"What if I fuck this up?" Santana croaks, finally acknowledging it out loud. "What if something goes wrong?"

"Sweetheart." Brittany coos, squeezing Santana's hands tightly and pulling her closer. "There's nothing you can do to mess this up."

"So many things can go wrong. _So many._ "

"I know that, I do. But I also know that when things go wrong, it's _nature,_ not anyone's fault."

"I'm so scared." Hot tears run down Santana's cheeks. "When I first saw it, my first instinct was to be over the moon. Two babies, double what we thought, and in one try. But then…God. I…I don't even know what to _say._ I don't know how to talk to you, because I'm so petrified that you're going to think I'm not happy."

"I don't think that, Santana. I think you're rightfully freaked out. It's a big surprise, and when it's your body and your health, it has to be even more concerting. But I promise, I'm going to take care of all of you. Whatever you need, okay?"

"I don't even know what I need." Santana turns to face Brittany, nose brushing hers. "I really don't. And it's Liam's birthday, and he's worried about me, and everyone's coming over, and I just need to calm the fuck down."

"It's a _party,_ honey. Your emotional wellbeing is a lot more important to me than that."

"Well if that's the case." Santana laughs bitterly. "Then you're going to be worrying about me for the rest of your life."

"Santana." Brittany shakes her head. "You've really been able to manage yourself well lately. I know you feel a lot, and I know a change in routine is tough for you."

"I better get used to it." She shakes her head, tears falling on Brittany's chest. "Because it's about to be a huge upset."

Brittany kisses Santana's lips, and Santana is certain it's because she has no idea what to say to settle her anxieties. But she clings to it regardless, holding the kiss for a long time, before settling Brittany's hands on her swelling midsection. She's here, she loves her, she's going to be okay. Her and these babies and Liam and Brittany, they're all going to be okay.

Sleep is fitful for Santana, as usual, but she does manage to get some in. She wakes up to squeals and shrieks in the morning, and seeing Liam jumping up and down on Brittany beside her does wonders for calming her nerves—at least temporarily. She rolls onto her side, and pushes herself up, watching Brittany kiss all over Liam's face.

"I's my birfday!" He cries out, though Brittany tries to hush him through her laughter.

"It's your _birthday?_ " Santana raises her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Nobody told _me!_ "

"I telled you, Mommy Noodle! I telled you!"

"You _did?_ Hmm, if I was your birthday, wouldn't we have gotten some balloons?"

"Oh _no!_ " Brittany gasps. "How could we forget balloons."

"We can get them! We can get them!" Liam attempts to dive onto Santana, but Brittany catches him, carefully setting him on top of her.

"We should probably have breakfast before that, birthday boy." Santana winks. "Happy birthday, Sir."

"I is so big now! Soon I can be a doccer too!"

"You want to be a doctor? I thought you wanted to be an armadillo."

"I can be a doccer armadino!"

"A doctor armadillo?" Brittany leans over to kiss Santana, and then Liam's head. "I have to remember to ask Miss Sue if we hire any doctor armadillos."

"No yet Mama! No yet! I needs to grow big first!"

"You're growing _very_ big, little boy." She smiles. "Isn't he, Mommy?"

"So big, Liam. So how about that breakfast?"

"Waffles! Waffles! Waffles!"

When they get downstairs, Liam is absolutely beside himself when he sees the balloons Brittany managed to sneak into the house. He dances around the kitchen, and Santana sips her coffee slowly, just observing him. He's the happiest child, in spite of all he's been through. He lost his parents, he'd been so severely burned that he nearly died, he'd had an untended broken arm for an extended period of time, he's had surgeries and countless hours of physical therapy, and yet, he's always smiling. It's something Santana finds hard to comprehend, but when she looks at him, it all seems to make sense.

She wonders how he'll react to the news that they're having two new babies. She wonders what he'll be like as a big brother. He's going to be thrilled, she thinks. He's going to take it so very seriously, fawning over his new siblings. Maybe it's Pierce blood. Maybe she should have suggested carrying one of Brittany's eggs. She's not sure, really. She just wishes, she supposes, that the dark and stormy wouldn't come over her so frequently. She wishes she could dance around with balloons. She wishes she had the resilience that her son does.

After breakfast, Brittany's parents arrive. They'd agreed not to say anything about the change in her pregnancy until after the party. Santana is insistent that the news of twins doesn't overshadow Liam's day, and Brittany agrees with her. They'll tell them after Liam is in bed, or tomorrow, or over the phone, whenever Santana is ready to break the news to everyone. She wants to do it when she feels excited. She doesn't want anyone to think that she's miserable at the prospect of getting double what she'd hoped for.

Whitney gets teary every time she looks at Santana, and finally Brittany banishes her from the kitchen, making her join Pierce and Liam in building train tracks. While Santana stands at the counter, cutting up cheese to put out, Brittany comes up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist. She kisses her neck, and her hands fall to rest on Santana's middle. They don't say anything, Santana just keeps cutting, and Santana feels Brittany's eyes on her hands and she continues to cut.

"You're very interested in my knife skills." Santana laughs, tilting her head to the side.

"As a fellow surgeon, I can appreciate the precision of your work."

"You're a nerd. But, a really amazing nerd."

"Are you okay with my mom? Because I can talk to her if she's making you uncomfortable."

"No, Britt, please don't." She shakes her head. "She's excited, I'm excited she's excited. It feels good to have so much love around me, you know? I'm so grateful that this… _these_ babies will grow up with something I didn't have. I really love your parents."

"They really love you too, Santana."

"That makes me so happy. You're just so special, and the fact that they really do think I'm good enough for you…"

"Come here." Brittany steps back, opening her arms so Santana can fit into them more comfortably. She slips into them, head resting on Brittany's chest.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just wanted a few seconds with you like this. Then I'll start making the salad."

"Everything feels less overwhelming like this."

"Yeah." Brittany kisses the top of Santana's head. "It does."

Though they'd probably pushed the limits of how many people could comfortably fit in the living space of their house and small yard, people begin to arrive. Maribel insists upon helping with the food, and Santana willingly agrees, giving up her spot to her mother and finding Liam in the living room, bouncing around and dancing, like he'd done when he woke up in the morning.

She doesn't actually _know_ the parents of most of the kids from Liam's day care that they'd invited, just a general sense of recognition from drop off and pickup, and around the hospital. Brittany doesn't know many either, much to Santana's relief. There are a lot of things that feel like catch up for her with Liam, so she's glad that today, she's not the only one who's out of the loop when it comes to the parents of his friends.

"Hey." Mercedes comes up beside her. "I'll just have you know that Liam Pierce is the only kid I'd come to a party full of tiny humans for."

"I'll remember that in a year and a half."

"Doubt a one-year-old will be surrounding themselves with a baby posse."

"Yeah." Santana chokes, realizing that she'd almost slipped the one thing she's intent upon by saying, but the one constant thought in her mind.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." She shakes her head and whispers. "A little morning sickness. Well Sam looks like he wants to be invited to every kid party until the end of time."

"Because Sam _is_ a child." Mercedes rolls her eyes. "And I say that with love."

"I guess you better prepare for ten or twelve than?"

"Listen, keep it up and I'll send Kurt over to hang out with you. He looks like _he_ might vomit."

"Because Kurt Hummel actually hates children. I have to _tell_ him, and is it weird that I'm kind of terrified?"

"Not _weird,_ but not necessary. He might not be into kids, but he's _here,_ and I'm pretty sure he bought Liam a Gucci suit, so…"

"A Gucci suit?" Santana raises her eyebrows. "For all his formal dinners?"

"I'm kidding, I have no idea what he bought him. Dave probably picked it out."

"'Cedes?"

"Yeah?"

"It's two." She whispers, knowing that she just can't hold it in any longer, knowing that she's the only one in the room Santana can tell who could keep themselves together.

"Uh, okay? So…what happens at two? Strippers jump out of the cake."

"No…it's…there are two of them. Identical two of them."

"In _you?_ " Mercedes whispers back, and Santana can see that she's desperately trying to keep a straight face. "Oh God, how much are you freaking out right now?"

"You don't even know. Basically a mental breakdown in the middle of the night."

"Honest question though, are you still taking your meds?"

"Everything but the Ambien." Santana nods, appreciative of Mercedes' concern.

"Good. I don't mean to be up in your business, but—"

"No, I know. You've been there will me. It's not something I'll ever do again, trust me. I checked everything with Amy before we even tried. She said it was fine, Roz said it was fine, so it's good."

"Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle!"

"Liam! Liam! Liam!" She lifts him up as he runs toward her, and spins him in a half circle. "Are you having fun?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! 'Cedes! I's my birfday!"

"So I've heard." She laughs. "Better watch out for Sam, he might try to eat all your cake."

"Oh no!" He giggles. "Mommy Noodle no let him!"

"Don't you worry, Sir. No cake for Sam until everyone gets some!"

"Sounds like I'm missing a _lot_ of fun over here." Brittany comes up behind Santana, and rubs noses with Liam over her shoulder. "Hi baby boy."

"Mama! Mama! Mama! You is!" He wriggles out of Santana's hold and slides down her body. "I be back!"

Santana is glad that with everything done, Brittany can actually enjoy herself at the party. Besides that, Brittany is still her favorite person in the world to be around, and she's glad she can stick by her side as they mingle with both their own friends, and the parents of Liam's.

Throughout the party, Maribel keeps bringing Santana bottles of water, and though she rolls her eyes every time, she _does_ drink them, really trying to stay hydrated and eat just enough that she doesn't feel nauseous, but not too much so that she _does._ It's a careful balance, she's learned, but today she seems to have gotten it right, she feels just mildly ill, and she's glad for that so she can enjoy Liam's day. She thinks of when Liam invited her to his birthday party, before she was _anything_ to Brittany. She thinks of how awkwardly she'd showed up, how uncertain she was that she'd done the right thing. And the thinks of how warmly the Pierces embraced her, how she'd felt like _home,_ even as an outsider. And now…

Liam is beside himself when he sees the cake that they'd ordered for him. While Santana had gotten it into her head that she wanted to bake him one, to make it special, she realized before she even started that she can't be a great surgeon and a great baker all at once. So they'd ordered him a Thomas cake, and Brittany had smiled wistfully as they did, wondering if it would be the last year Liam was interested in trains. Wondering what next year, when he turns five would bring. But for this year, he gets to stay a baby a little longer, and they savor it, both kissing his face as he grins, knowing that Maribel has been taking pictures all day.

After everyone leaves but Maribel and the Pierces, Liam collapses with exhaustion in the middle of the floor, the string of a balloon trapped between his fingers. Santana considers breaking the news to their family, but as Maribel finishes cleaning up, and Whitney and Pierce start getting ready to go back to their hotel, she decides to wait. She feels at peace right now, watching Liam sleep, and she doesn't want to upset that. When Brittany goes to walk her parents out to their car, Santana is left alone with her mother. Though Maribel has her purse over her shoulder, ready to walk out the door and hail a cab, she pauses, looking at Santana as she perches on the edge of the armchair.

"What?"

"Nothing, honey." Maribel shakes her head. "It was just a nice day."

"It was. I'm glad we could give him this. It's really important to me."

"Santana, I—"

"I know, Ma. I didn't say it to make you feel bad about it." Santana sighs. "I'm just saying that I can, because of her, and you couldn't, because of him."

"You've grown up into such an amazing woman." Maribel covers her mouth, then steps forward to embrace Santana. "I'm proud of you every day."

"I'm trying. I've got…stuff, but I'm doing well, healing more every day. And you are too, I think?"

"I am." She nods against Santana's shoulder. "Seeing you happy really helps me to."

"Good. I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweet baby girl."

When Brittany comes back inside, Maribel leaves. Looking at the clock, Brittany lifts Liam from the floor and into her arms. It's just past seven-o'clock, but Santana feels like she's dead on her feet. Turning off the lights in case they don't come back downs, she meanders up the stairs behind Brittany and into Liam's bedroom. He still has his party hat on as she lays him in bed, and Santana watches as she carefully removes it, running her thumb over the indent left by the string. Brittany sits down on the edge of the bed beside him, and she studies his face.

Santana just stands watching. She watches as Brittany leans over to kiss the scars on his face. She watches as she tucks the blanket over him, though he's still fully clothed. She watches as she holds his little hand, smoothing the skin with her fingers. She watches as she sucks in a breath. And then, when a shuddering sob breaks from her chest, Santana approaches slowly, dropping her hand to Brittany's shoulder.

"I'm okay." She murmurs. "I'm okay."

"Okay…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Brittany, why are you sorry?"

"This happens every year on his birthday. I remember thinking how nice it was last year to have you as a distraction, and then you left and…this exact thing happened." She shakes her head. "It's just a hard day."

"Britt." Santana takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't realize, I should have. I was a mess about _me,_ and…"

"Please, Santana, don't. This is old stuff." Brittany sniffles. "I see him so happy, and I wish she could too. That's what the hardest part is. I'm _so_ grateful every day that I have him, but it came at the worst cost."

"Can I hug you?"

"Please." She nods, and Santana crouches down, wrapping her arms around Brittany. "Thank you. I love you."

"I love you too, so much. I hate that you're hurting, and that you always will."

"I miss her. She would have been so excited about us right now. When she was pregnant with Li, she was _convinced_ she was having twins. We teased her about it for the longest time."

"Oh, Britt." Santana hugs her harder. "This must be hard for you too then."

"No, I'm so incredibly happy about it, because I think of how much she'd love it. She would have been all over you, she loved pregnant women, and she'd have especially loved it with you."

"I mean it every time I tell you I would have love to have met her." Stroking her hair, Santana just tries as hard as she can to be soothing for Brittany.

"That means more to me than you know." She reaches her hand over to ruffle Liam's hair. "Oh, my boy, how much I love you."

"Do you want some time with him alone?"

"No." Brittany shakes her head. "I'd like to sit here a bit, but I'd love if you sat with us too."


	60. Chapter 60

It feels like it comes out of nowhere, but two weeks after Liam's party, Santana pops, and in a much bigger way than she had expected. She's glad that she managed to tell Kurt beforehand, to more excitement than she'd expected, but because she has yet to tell Shelby, it ties her hands. She obviously can't walk around the hospital with her new baby bump without telling her boss that she's pregnant—and that she's _not,_ despite her appearance, very close to her due date—so she preps herself to meet with her first thing Monday morning.

Of course, she feels like nothing she has fits her properly, even the loose fitting dresses she's been wearing to work, so she obsesses over it. When she finally feels like she won't look gigantic—at least until she puts her scrubs on—she goes downstairs, and feels the way Brittany smiles at her when she sees her. It's different than her other smiles, it's different than anything Santana has ever known, and she's not certain she'll ever get used to the way her heart quickens when she sees it.

"I love that dress on you." Brittany hums, looking up from tying Liam's shoes.

"Me too! Me too! It's pink and red and green and flowers!"

"I know you love the flowers, Sir." Santana grins, bending down a little to ruffle his hair, and ignoring the new fairly frequent twinges in her abdomen. "You got ready so quick this morning."

"You was slow." He giggles. "I was regular!"

"I was a little slow, wasn't I? Come here, I didn't even get to hug you today." She squats down carefully, still trying to figure out her new center of gravity, and opens her arms to him.

"Mommy Noodle, you is very pokey. I think you eated too much hot dogs!" Liam pokes at her belly, and Santana quickly glances up at Brittany, who mouths _later._

"My belly is definitely very full." She deflects, excited and anxious and a little bit of _everything_ for when they actually tell Liam. "And I hope _your_ belly is, because I know Mama had leftover French toast for you!"

"It is!" He sticks out his belly, pressing it against hers. "So, so full!"

Santana straightens up, and when they leave the house, Brittany puts her arm around her waist, fingers tapping the side of her swollen belly. It's reassuring for Santana, and she leans further into her side. There's a lot of traffic on the way to the hospital, and it agitates Santana, shifting in the passenger seat, and fiddling with the radio. She just wants to be done telling Shelby, and go about her day. She knows it's going to be _fine,_ but still, the anticipation is killing her.

When they get to the hospital, Santana kisses Brittany and Liam goodbye before they get to the day care center. It's later than she would have liked and she has her first surgery in an hour. Sucking in as much air as she can manage, she grabs a cup of coffee from the nurses' station, drops her bag in her office, and goes down the hall to Shelby's. The door is partially open, and she knocks on the frame, stepping in when Shelby nods to her.

"Hey Santana, what's up? I thought we were meeting in Robin's room at nine _tomorrow_ morning?"

"No, no, we are. This actually isn't about Robin. Do you have…maybe ten minutes?"

"I can give you fifteen." Shelby nods. "Shut the door."

Santana's hand shakes a little as she closes the door, and she sits down in front of Shelby's desk, crossing her legs and biting her lip. Shelby looks at her, and Santana forces a smile.

"So, um…I don't really know how to lead up to this, so I'm just going to say it. I'm pregnant."

"Well, _that's_ exciting news." Shelby smiles softly, tapping her pen on her desk. "Why do you look so nervous?"

"You're my _boss._ So…I don't know. I mean, I wasn't sure if I had to go to HR, or whatever, but, since I started showing, I wanted to make sure you knew."

"You worry more about HR than anyone else in this hospital. I'll get paperwork for you when the time comes, but you don't need to worry about it today. I consider myself more than just your boss, Santana. We've worked together long enough to be friends, and I'm incredibly happy for you, and Brittany too."

"Thank you. We're happy too. _Doubly_ happy, actually. You're going to see me look _massive,_ because I'm having twins."

"That's really exciting, Santana. Do you have a plan for the kind of maternity leave you're thinking about taking."

"Providing no complications, six weeks. You know me, Shelby, I won't last long outside of the hospital."

"I figured as much. Okay, but I've seen surgeons do this pregnant, if it gets to be too much, you'll let me know?"

"I will."

"I hope that's a promise. You have a tendency to overwork yourself."

"I won't this time." Santana laughs. "I'm pretty sure Brittany will kill me if I do."

"I'd probably be on her side with that. But you're feeling good?"

"Mostly, yeah. Pretty anxious, a little nauseous, but mostly good."

"I'm glad to hear that." Shelby nods. "And I'll see Brittany in a meeting this afternoon, so I'll be sure to congratulate her as well."

"She'll appreciate that. Thanks, Shelby, this was easier than I thought."

"Some day you won't be afraid to come into my office." Shelby shakes her head. "You're not an intern or a resident anymore…and even when you were…"

"I know, I stayed on the right side of trouble."

Once she leaves Shelby's office, Santana does her rounds. Her caseload is lighter than normal, and with Porter on her service, it all goes smoothly. With everything settled, Santana goes into her office and changes into her scrubs, ready to remove the cancerous mass from her ten year old patient's stomach. She sends Brittany a quick text message, letting her know her meeting with Shelby went well, and leaves her phone on her desk before she goes down to the OR. Her patient's prognosis is good, Santana's day has been good, and she's feeling pretty together as she scrubs in.

The surgery goes as well as she expects. She lets Porter close up, and she nods her approval at his work. Once Abigail is settled in recovery, and Santana lets her parents know that she should be recovering peacefully, she makes her way back up to her office. She can't help but rest one hand on her bump as she walks down the hall, smiling to herself that she's comfortable with the idea that she's almost announcing herself without saying a word.

She's halfway down the hall when she stops dead in her tracks, and nearly doubles over at what she sees. The wind is knocked out of her, and she feels like she's struggling to catch her breath. Her mind is screaming for her to run the other direction, to hide in a supply closet, or crouch behind a gurney, but her legs down cooperate. She remains frozen in place, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights. It's her worst nightmare come true, and she can't run from it. Before she can even gather her thoughts, he's approaching her, making her cower in a fear she hasn't felt in over a decade.

"Ana." The imposing figure looms over her, and her hands turn to ice. Only he calls her that. Only he can turn her to this trembling, fearful shell of a human being. "It's been a very long time."

"Dad." Her voice creaks, and her stomach feels sick. "What are you doing here?"

"Playing golf." He laughs, a sickening, bitter laugh, which makes her feel three inches tall. "I'm here to do a surgery no one else in the world can do, what else would I be doing. I see medical school hasn't given you any common sense. I'm surprised you didn't become a nurse."

"I wasn't expecting to see you." Santana mumbles, looking down at her feet.

"As I was never informed you worked here, I wasn't expecting to see you either."

There's a long, painful pause. Santana's legs still refuse to work, and her heart pounds in her chest so hard that she's certain it can't be good for her or her babies. Seeing him alone is too much, too agonizing, but deep within her, she still aches for some kind of approval from him. She aches for him to tell her she's good enough. Aches for his apology. Aches for some kind of explanation for how he treated her for so many years. But he continues to stare her down, his stature dwarfing her, his gaze entrapping her.

"Well." He cocks his chin at the swell beneath her breasts, a derisive sneer on his mouth. "I see you grew out of that garbage you tried to feed your mother. How is the bitch, by the way? Living high on my money and her lies, I'm sure."

"I—" There's too much for Santana to respond to, and nothing at all to say. "Don't."

"Still can't take a joke, can you?"

"It's not a joke when you mean it." She manages, sounding like herself at eleven, though without the big tears in her eyes.

"And you can decipher my meaning all in that little head of yours, can't you? Your husband must love that exceptional talent you have."

"I don't have a husband." Santana leans forward a little on her toes, determined not to let him walk all over her, determined to be stronger than she ever was, though she feels like she might be sick all over his shoes.

"Can't say I'm surprised about _that._ You always were impossible to love."

"My _wife—_ "

"Oh, so you're still on that then." His face contorts with disgust. "Pretty girls aren't dykes, and you certainly took a lot of my money to be pretty."

"Raul." Another surgeon, one Santana doesn't recognize steps out into the hallway from a prep room, and she watches her father's face return to normal and a warning smile cross it before he turns to face the intruding doctor. "The patient is prepped. We're ready to fly."

"Excellent." He nods, the most terrifying part of all, perhaps, how quickly he can turn off his domination over Santana, and resume to role of a genial doctor.

His sudden easy demeanor makes Santana feel as if she'd imagined everything else, as if maybe it _is_ all a joke, and always has been, but she's too sensitive. It's a whiplash, the kind that shakes her to the core, and she knows her extremities tremble in response. With the eye of the other surgeon on her father, he reaches out and touches her arm. She's trained herself so well not to flinch when he does that, that even so many years later, she stands perfectly still, casting her eyes down to her feet.

"It was nice to see you, Ana." He lies, and she can feel his eyes boring into her, demanding she respond congenially.

"Yes, you too."

He lifts his hand from her arm, and somehow, in the absence of the weight, Santana is convinced she might collapse on the floor. She's still frozen. She's still nearly wordless. And when he goes back into the operating room, a sense of grief threatens to crush her. Terrified that she'll be seen sobbing in the middle of the surgical wing, she clutches herself as she flees for the nearest on call room, praying she doesn't erupt before then.

She thanks everything that the room is empty, and she sinks down onto a bed, curling herself into a ball, and letting the sobs engulf her. His mere presence could have reduced her to nearly this, but his words worsened it. _Still can't take a joke? Impossible to love. Pretty girls aren't dykes._ It was as if he was running his greatest hits album, reopening the lashes his words had put through her for the first nineteen-years her life.

She cries until she thinks she can't cry anymore, but then she's hit with a second wave. She's mortified that she's behaving this way, mortified that she's in her thirties, and yet, she can't pull herself together right now. Mortified that she's at work, and anyone could walk in and see her like this. When there's a knock at the door, she startles, and scrubs furiously at her face with her hands.

"It's occupied." She rasps, turning her face toward the wall, so she shielded from whoever it is, should they open the door.

Santana hears the handle turn, and she pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to keep herself from audibly sobbing. The bed dips beside her, and she shudders, panicked, until she smells Brittany, feels the weight of Brittany's hand on her face. Without a word, Brittany lays down behind Santana, wrapping her in a tight embrace, kissing her hairline, letting her feel her calming presence.

"How did you know?" Santana whispers through her tears.

"Mercedes called me when she couldn't get in touch with you to let you know he was here. You saw him?"

"Mmhm." Santana hiccups, shaking her head, because she can't get the words out.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

For a long time, Santana cries silently. So much time is just washing over her, so much she thought she had recovered from hitting her with full force. It was so much easier to be okay, when she was removed from a situation. But seeing him, realizing he hasn't changed, realizing he'll always see her the way he had as a child causes such a deep sense of heartbreak, and a deep pit of inferiority within her very soul.

"He…he." She tries, and turns him Brittany's arms, burning her face in her chest.

"You don't have to talk about it, honey, if you're not ready."

"I don't know why I've never been good enough. I don't know why he hates me so much."

"This isn't _you._ This is _him._ Please, Santana, I won't ever let you forget that."

"He's disgusted by me. _Repulsed._ He…just…said really shitty things."

"I'm repulsed by _him._ I love you to the very core of my being, Santana Lopez, and he is unworthy to kiss the soles of your shoes."

Santana doesn't say anything. There's nothing _to_ say. As much as she hates him, she fears him more. His power, his words, his utter contempt all induce such a visceral terror in her that she has no response. And above that, on some level, she still believes everything he has to say. She still believes that maybe she's not good enough, that she's unnatural, and worst of all, that she's unlovable.

She calms herself down enough to go back to work, and Brittany walks her to her office, clearly concerned to leave her. Santana tells her she's fine, that she'll get through the day, because she refuses to leave on his account. Though Brittany believes her, Santana isn't sure she believes _herself,_ but she'll do what she has to do. She'll push away his power over her, and take care of her patients who need her to be well.

It's easier said than done. She looks at the increasingly alarming text messages from Mercedes attempting to warn her, and she feels like she might break down again. But she texts her back, thanking her, and telling her they'll talk later, and waits for her newest patient to be transferred up from the emergency room. Everything else can wait. She has her job, and she's damn good at it, she won't let her turmoil take that away from her.

She examines three year old Celia, and looks at her bright green eyes. She has stage two esophageal cancer, and taking to her parents temporarily assuages the wrench in her gut over her own problems. She can't imagine, she _never_ could, but now more than ever. Carefully, she talks them through an experimental new surgery she's willing to try. She calms them, though she hopes they can't see the swelling around her eyes, and she makes notes in the file. She'll keep her overnight for testing, and they'll go from here, that's all she can promise, though she wishes she could promise more.

After she leaves the room, Santana throws up. It had been bubbling in her stomach through the entire consult, and she can't help it anymore. She doesn't even make it to her own bathroom, she finds the nurse's bathroom at the end of the hall, and hopes no one can pinpoint her pink and turquoise sneakers beneath the stall, or the sound of her horrible retching. She may be visibly showing, and certain everyone in the hospital can tell, but she's not ready to share morning sickness tips with nurses in the bathroom. She's not ready for it to be a _thing,_ no matter how much it _is._

She's shaky throughout the rest of her afternoon. Part of her thinks that she should have listened to Brittany's advice and taken the rest of the day off. She could have gone home and crawled beneath the blankets. She could have slept away how much this hurts, and woken up to Brittany holding her again. But she didn't want to tell Shelby she needed to leave on the same day she told her she was pregnant. So she powers through, and then finally, when she's done with her patients for the day, she decides to go down and get Liam a little early, hoping Brittany might be ready to go when she is.

Santana gets into the elevator, resting her hand on the side of her belly. At each floor it stops, her heart stops just for an instant, afraid he's going to be there, afraid she'll be trapped inside with him. But it doesn't happen. It's all in her head. He's probably gone by now anyway, back to…wherever it is he's living, back out of her life, hopefully to never be seen again.

She's halfway down the hall when she sees Brittany. Though she's facing away from her, she can tell that her arms are crossed over her chest. Not wanting to interrupt her, Santana keeps a distance, standing with her back to the wall a few doors down.

"I've read some of your work." Santana shivers when she hears the sound of her father's voice. "Your method of chest reconstruction—"

"To be quite frank, Dr. Lopez, I'm not here to speak with you about my work. I wrote it, you've read it, it's unnecessary."

"Ah, so then you're here to talk about my laparoscopic quintuple bypass. I know, I'm the first one to ever complete it, although I'm not sure how it will benefit your work."

"I'm not here to talk to you about medicine at all, actually. I heard you were still in the hospital, and had another surgery here tomorrow, so I'm asking you to stay away from Dr. Lopez."

"And who are you tell me I can and can't speak to my daughter?" He laughs bitterly, and Santana shivers at the sound. "I see she's already spreading lies about me around this place, I should have seen that coming."

"She's not spreading anything about you, I've known about what kind of person you are long before today. I'm her _wife,_ and—"

"Ah, so _you're_ the wife."

"Save it, Dr. Lopez." Brittany snaps, and Santana realizes that she's never heard her speak in such a way to _anyone_ before, no matter what they've done. "I'm not afraid of you, and I'll make damn sure she doesn't have to be either."

"And just what are you going to do about it if I don't?"

"I will devote my life to digging up any and every ethics violation I can find on you, starting with your connections with Dr. Alan Franklin and the loss of his medical license in 2002."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a request. Leave her be, and you have nothing to worry about."

"I don't know who you think you are, Dr. Pierce. I see she managed to find the perfect match for her, a conniving little—"

"I suggest you don't finish that sentence. I have no problem calling hospital security on you, and I can assure you that Chief Sylvester will take my side."

Brittany doesn't wait for a response. She turns away, and Santana watches her father stalk furiously back into the office he must have come from. The moment Santana catches Brittany's eye from where she stands, she sees a sense of hesitation, or maybe guilt cross her face, she's not entirely certain. But she sucks in a breath, and she steps toward Brittany, allowing them a rare embrace in the center of the hospital. Maybe it's her hormones, or maybe it's the fact that she just watched someone for the first time in her life stand up for her this way. But either way, she swallows back tears, and squeezes Brittany as tightly as she can.

"I'm sorry, Santana. I know I shouldn't have gone to him without your approval, but I saw his name on the surgical schedule for tomorrow and I looked into it."

"He's staying here?"

"Only through tomorrow. Then he's going back to Miami."

"Miami." Santana repeats, looking over Brittany's shoulder into the distance. "Okay."

"I don't want you to have to feel threatened or afraid."

"I know." She nods. "Thank you for just…letting him see that someone loves me. I don't know…it doesn't even matter to him, I'm sure, but he would always make it a point that I was unlovable. To see you love me that much that you'd do that…"

"When I tell you that I would do anything for you, I mean that. I really didn't want to overstep—"

"You didn't. It means everything to me. Sorry, I just feel really fragile right now, and I don't know how to stop feeling that way."

"Do you want to go home and lay down?"

"I think I want to go home and tell Liam, Britt." Santana turns her face to look at Brittany's. "I want to be with our son, and just remember how much different…I don't know."

"Okay." Brittany nods. "Santana?"

"Mmhm?"

"I just want you to know that you're an amazing mother, and partner, and human being, and you are deserving of all the love in the world."

"Thank you." Santana swallows hard. "I really needed to hear that."

After Santana steps out of Brittany's embrace, she's a little embarrassed by the public display of affection in the hospital. She wonders if it makes her too weak, too vulnerable to need this while she's at work, but maybe today she _was_ too weak and too vulnerable, so this was her only method of survival. They walk side by side down the hall, and though they're early when they get to the day care, Liam is ready for them.

In the way Liam hugs Santana, it's almost as if he senses how much she needs that, and she crouches down, wrapping him up in her tight embrace. Though it's getting increasingly difficult for her to lift him, she does. She wants to carry him out to the car, even though he's big enough to walk. She wants to bring him home and cuddle him in their bed, to tell him that he's going to be a big brother. She just wants her family, her wife and her son, and she wants to remember that they are _everything_ she never thought she was worthy of.

Brittany doesn't even need to ask Santana about dinner. She knows when she's had a bad day, the best thing for her is pasta fagioli soup and breadsticks from the Italian restaurant near their house—even if it _is_ ninety-degrees. Pulling up the car in front, Brittany goes inside, and Santana just smiles at her, closing her eyes and leaning back against the seat. He'd wanted to make her believe it today, how broken she was, but Brittany always puts the pieces back together. Brittany always knows just how to love her, and Santana can't explain how it makes her feel.

She comes back out with a white paper bag and a pizza box, and Liam cheers in the backseat, chattering away about his pizza. Santana loves that. She loves his unadulterated happiness, she loves that he'll never be told not to express it, never be told that his emotions are wrong. Snaking her hand behind the seat, she squeezes his, and he giggles, pulling her arm with both of his hands.

Through dinner, Santana is quiet, and she thinks she'd probably kill for a glass of wine to take the edge off. But she won't have one. She just eats her soup slowly, dipping her breadsticks in the broth, and she watches Liam devour his pizza, and Brittany spear her salad. When Santana is done, Brittany suggests she take a bath while she and Liam clean up and get him ready for bed. While normally, she'd object, Santana doesn't tonight. She goes up into their bathroom and runs the tub as hot as she can stand.

When she slips in, the water feels so good on her muscles, and she lays her hands to rest on her tiny bump. Tonight, Santana can't help but wonder what her mom felt when she was growing inside of her. Was she happy? Did Raul Lopez ever stop for her favorite dinner and clean the kitchen so she could take a hot bath? Did he ever kiss where their baby grew, and tell her she looked more beautiful than ever? Did he think at all about the child he put inside of his wife, and was it with any sort of fondness? Or was it a mistake? Did her mother's birth control fail, and she found herself with an uncaring man for the next twenty-years? Did she ever feel like there was someone out there who loved her unconditionally, and wanted her to smile?

Santana thinks about her birth too. Was her father upset that she was a girl, and wish her away because she wasn't a son? Did he hold her in the hospital, like any father would? Did he stay at her mother's bedside and assure her that he would take care of anything she needed? Or did he go back to work, yelling at interns to take out his anger over a baby he couldn't love? Did he know that he would berate his child until she hid in her room terrified, pouring over any books she could get her hands on to escape? Did he know that he would someday shear her hair off because she got gum stuck in it, and if she was too irresponsible to chew gum, than she was too irresponsible to have hair. Did he think then that he would pinch her sides and tell her to lose weight because her appearance embarrassed him? That he would pay for her to her surgery to be more attractive, the kind of teenagers he and his colleagues fawned over?

Did he know he would lock her in her room when she told him that she couldn't go out with the head of surgery's son because she didn't think she liked boys at all? That his wife would bring food up, and soothe her tears, and promise her that he would come around? Did he know that he would hate her, and ask her if she was done being a "dirty dyke" every time he crossed paths with her? That he would refuse to pay her college tuition unless she retracted her statement and proved to him that she was straight?

Did he look at her mother's growing belly and know that the child inside would someday wash dishes in her college cafeteria until her hands bled. Did he know that she would hide her infected breasts after a botched surgery because she was so afraid of him? That she considered swallowing all her pills in one shot after she was brought to the hospital for it, because she didn't know how to continue like this? Did he know that she'd hate him, but still, every day of her life wish she was good enough for him to love?

What if she turns out like him? Santana wonders that, tracing shapes beneath the water over her belly. What if he didn't know that he'd be this way? What if he wasn't _always,_ and something snapped within him? What if she breaks someday? What if her children hate her? The thought is too much to bear, and Santana sucks in a shaky breath. She won't be him, she can't be him. She loves Liam, and she loves her two one ounce babies. She'll do better, she'll _be_ better, no matter what it takes.

When she's finished, she dries herself off, and changes into pajama shorts and a tank top. She's been getting so hot at night, even with the air conditioner all the way down, but she has to smile at how her bump really protrudes in an outfit like this. She looks like she could give birth _now,_ despite that fact that she has four and half months to go, and a week ago, she just looked fat. Just as she's finished pulling up her hair, there's a knock on the door, and Liam stands there in his pajamas, beaming as he holds a bowl of ice cream.

"Mama say I had to eat mine in the kitchen, but I bringded you some!" He giggles. "Chocolate and nuts and marshymallows!"

"My favorite!" Santana takes the teetering bowl from him and sets it on her nightstand. "So you're going to come cuddle with me and Mama tonight, right?"

"Yeah! For a long long time!"

"That sounds really good to me, Sir."

"Come on Li." Brittany walks into the room holding his blanket and Percy. "Hop on up on the bed."

"Thanks for the ice cream, Britt." Santana leans back into her as Liam scrambles onto the bed. She feels the soft pads of Brittany's fingers trail over the bottom of her bump, and her skin prickles at the sensation. "I look really big."

"You look really _beautiful._ " Brittany kisses her earlobe, whispering in her ear, "You don't know what you do to me like this."

"Brittany." Santana gasps.

"I know, I'll save it for later, if you're up for it. I know you've had a really hard day. I just want to make you feel good."

"I…might really need that."

On either side of Liam, who settles in the center with Percy and his blanket, Santana and Brittany get up on the bed. Santana rests her ice cream on her bump and eats it slowly while Brittany reads Liam a chapter of _Charlotte's Web._ By the time she's finished, she feels so satisfied by the ice cream that she stretches her arms out and squeezes Liam close to her until Brittany finishes reading.

"I like this book Mama. Can I get a pig too?"

"I think Lord Tubbington might be afraid of a pig, Li." Brittany laughs. "They're a lot bigger than him."

"I will tell him it's okey!"

"What if—" Santana meets Brittany's eyes, ready to take the opening. "We got something else that isn't a pig?"

"A giraffe!"

"How about something smaller? Maybe _two_ things smaller?"

"Puppies!"

"I think, baby, Mommy and I have a surprise coming from you that you might like even better than puppies."

"A _surprise?_ " He gasps. "What kin'a surprise?"

"Remember when you asked me about my belly this morning?"

"Yeah! You eated too many hot dogs!"

"Well." Santana presses her tongue between her teeth and smiles. "What if I told you instead of hot dogs in my belly, there were two babies?"

"Mommy Noodle!" He covers his mouth, aghast. "You not asposed to eat babies! You needs to frow up and get them babies out! Hurry!"

"Oh my Liam." Brittany laughs so hard the bed shakes. "Mommy didn't _eat_ babies! She's _growing_ babies."

"Growin' babies? How you growin' babies? You get seeds?"

"I had seeds in my belly." She laughs, taking his tiny hand to her side. "And now they decided to grow into babies."

"Can I _see_ them?" Liam wriggles closer to her, mushing his whole face against her shirt. "Babies! You in there?"

"They're in there, Li." Brittany ruffles his hair. "But they won't come out until around Christmas time."

"Is _Sanna_ gonna get them out?"

"Maybe Santa will help me when I have them in the hospital. But you know what? Me and Mama have a picture of them, if you want to see."

"How they take a pitcher in your belly if I can't see?"

"They have a very special machine that did it." Brittany leans over to her nightstand and takes out the sonogram picture. "See, here they are, little baby one, and little baby two."

"Mama." Liam studies the sonogram image carefully, getting his face as close to it as he can. "Them is not babies. Them is…smushes."

"They do look a little like _smushes._ " Brittany kisses Santana's forehead. "But I promise you, they're just very, very small babies. Smaller even than your Percy."

"Nooo! Babies is not that little!"

"They are when they're still growing. Even you were that little once, sweetheart."

"In my other Mommy's belly?"

"In your other Mommy's belly." Brittany nods, swallowing hard. "And I got to see a picture of you just like this, my little smushy Liam."

"And they gon' grow big like me?"

"They will. They'll be quite a bit bigger when they come out of Mommy's tummy, and then they'll grow big like you where we can see them."

"I think they can come out now." He nods assertively. "You grow out in this house, babies! I share my trains with you!"

"They'll love that, Liam." Santana squeezes him to her side. "But we'll let them grow a few months more inside me. And guess what? We didn't even tell you a _really_ cool part!"

"What? What? What!"

"Our two new babies are going to look almost the same!"

"As _me?_ "

"Well…" Santana bites her lip. "They're probably going to look a little different than you, _but_ I think they're going to be as handsome as you. They're going to look like each other, and it might be a little hard to tell who is who when they come."

"That's silly, Mommy Noodle! They different!"

"They are." Brittany chuckles, setting her hand beside Liam's on Santana's belly. "And we'll get to know them and how different they are when we meet them."

"Different babies, I meet you soon." He mumbles into Santana's belly. "Then I share my trains."

"They'll love that a lot." Santana chokes up, putting her hand over Brittany's and squeezing it. "You're going to be an amazing big brother, Liam."

They keep Liam in their bed until he starts to drift off with his head on Santana's belly. She just keeps stroking his hair, so completely enamored with this sweet little boy. Finally, Brittany lifts him into her arms, and Santana kisses his head before he's carried off to bed. She knows she should get up and bring her ice cream bowl downstairs, and though she'd rather not move, she knows she needs to brush her teeth too. So she heaves herself up, she tip toes down the stairs and loads her bowl in the dishwasher, and when she comes back up, Brittany is brushing her own teeth in the bathroom.

They brush quietly, side by side, and once Santana's face is washed, she crawls into bed, waiting for Brittany to get in behind her and wrap her arms around her like she always does. Santana closes her eyes, just for a moment, until she feels the dip of the bed, the press of Brittany's body, the breath against her ear. She sighs deeply, feeling a sort of contentment that she needed to feel, and sinks back into her.

"This feels good." Santana murmurs. "I know we sleep this way every night, but today it feels really…better."

"Are you okay, Santana?" Brittany kisses her bare shoulder, letting her lips linger there, tickling her soft skin.

"I'm…shaken, maybe is the best word for it? I never expected to see him again, and I'm lucky enough that he hates kids, so he's never published in my peds journals. But…he was there, and exactly the same. I guess…maybe as long as I didn't see him, I could hope that maybe he'd changed. I don't know…I don't know why I care."

"Because he hurt you, more than hurt you."

"A year ago, I would have never recovered from this. But now I have you…and you love me."

"I do, to my very core."

"I can feel that. I don't know how to explain it, but I can physically _feel_ your love for me, even when you're not near me. It helps with all of my crap."

"It makes me so glad that I can." Brittany scratches Santana's upper thigh.

"Mmm, feels good." Santana shivers, realizing just how sensitive she's become _all_ the time. "Sorry, we're talking about things, and I'm getting turned on. Ridiculous."

"It's your hormones, honey. Sorry, I know you know that…"

"No, don't be sorry. I'm just glad I have a genius who's read every pregnancy book ever to validate that, or else I'd feel like an idiot for wishing your hand was a little higher up."

"Hmm, like this?" Brittany cups Santana's sex through her sleep shorts, applying gentle pressure with the heel of her hand.

"Yes." Santana tilts her head back to rest on Brittany's shoulder. "Little more like that."

"How about this?" Her two fingers press where Santana's entrance is, and even through the silk of her shorts, Santana moans and clamps her legs together, trapping Brittany's hand there.

"Why is this really fucking hot?"

"Because I love making love to you with your clothes on sometimes." Brittany husks into her ear, and snakes her hand up under her top, rolling her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. "Especially now that you're so sensitive."

"I think I could come just from you doing that." Santana groans, pushing Brittany's hand on her breast.

"Do you want to?"

"Nuh-uh, I want—" Santana rasps, taking Brittany's hand and slipping it beneath her shorts, guiding it up and down.

"Guide my hand, Santana. Use it to make yourself feel good. Spread your legs, and touch yourself with my fingers."

"Fuck." Santana feels a tiny tremor just from the words.

She tries to start slow, but she feels so wet and so needy that she keeps pressing harder, moving Brittany's hand faster, keening and moaning as Brittany sucks on her neck and pinches her nipple. The whole time, Brittany whispers dirty words in her ear, and though it's different than their usual style of lovemaking, it's exactly what Santana needs to quiet the beasts in her mind.

Brittany doesn't move her fingers at all, and Santana knows she's letting her manipulate them however she wants. When she finally sides them down from where she makes tight circles on her clit, and enters herself, her own fingers slip in with them, and she gasps, never having felt this full before. The first time she comes, it's around both of their fingers, and her body shakes, struggling to kiss Brittany's lips.

"My wrist—" Santana whimpers. "Keep going. God, please keep fucking me, Britt."

"Are you—"

"Oh God." She feels another orgasm building, and she clamps her legs together, aching for more, aching to push Brittany further in. "Please, baby."

Brittany grasps Santana's hand, and squeezes it hard before she starts up again, thrusting in and out of her at such a furious pace that Santana feels blissful tears running down her cheeks. The throbbing inside of her runs in a continuous wave, until she finally goes numb, and she pulls at Brittany's hand, panting and shaking.

"Thank you." She whispers through her tears. "God…thank you."

"For what?" Brittany hums into her neck.

"For loving me like you do. For just…" Santana breaks down, hot tears running down her cheeks and sobs hiccuping from her chest until she can't breathe.

"Oh, honey, baby." Brittany gathers her up in her arms, hugging her close to her chest. "It's okay, it's okay."

"I'm sorry. I'm _sorry._ You just made me feel so good and now I'm—" She hiccups into Brittany's chest, her nose running all over her shirt. "Now I'm a fucking mess again."

"Hey, Santana. You've had such a day, cry, scream, do whatever you need to do. I'm here, and I love you, always, always."


	61. Chapter 61

Had she made the decision knowing that she'd be nearly five months pregnant with twins, and growing wider by the day, Santana never would have agreed to present research at a pediatric and neonatal surgery conference in Phoenix. She doesn't do conferences often, not like Brittany, who is so prolific in her field that she travels _at least_ once a month, but she _does_ consider her occasional invitation a real badge of honor. Still though, the idea of waddling down the aisle of an airplane, being away from home for three days, and having even more trouble than normal sleeping in a hotel bed isn't exactly appealing to her.

The week before she's set to leave, Santana buys maternity clothes. She definitely didn't think she'd need them so early, but even the most roomy of her professional clothes have become tight around her middle, and she refuses to look stuffed like a sausage in a room full of surgeons. So she goes out on her lunch hour, and she buys whatever she can find, figuring she'll just return anything that doesn't look good on her.

That night, after Liam is asleep, Santana goes up to the bedroom to try everything on. When Brittany comes in, she's shy about modeling for her, still getting used to the changes in her body. Besides her ever growing belly, her face has gained weight, and her breasts feel _massive,_ but Brittany gives her soft, adoring smiles. Brittany compliments her curves, Brittany kisses her and strokes her sides when she's in between outfits, standing in just her bra and high-waisted maternity panties. Brittany makes her feel beautiful, even when she may not feel that way on her own.

The night before she leaves, Brittany makes love to her long and slow. Given her increased libido, Santana knows she's trying to leave her sated while she's gone, and she lies back, prone on the sheets as Brittany kisses every inch of her body. She threads her fingers through Brittany's hair, and then she kneels at the edge of the bed while Brittany spreads her own legs, the most comfortable position now for Santana when she wants to go down on her wife for as long as she possibly can.

Because Brittany has to work, Santana takes a cab to the airport. Brittany and Liam hug and kiss her goodbye on the curb, and Liam hugs her belly tight, giving Santana a picture for _them babies._ It's a struggle, but she doesn't cry. She's not quite there yet, losing all control of her emotions, but it's getting closer, and she's trying to prolong it for as long as possible. In the cab, she gets car sick, though she doesn't throw up, but frankly, she's beyond concerned about getting _air sick_ and having to maneuver down the aisle of the plane and sink to her knees in the tiny bathroom to vomit.

When she checks in at the airport, she's surprised when the woman at the desk tells her she's been upgraded to first class. Though she'd considered it herself, she thought it was ridiculous to spend the money, and figured she'd be fine with coach. Smiling to herself, even the whole way through security, when she finally has her shoes back on and her computer tucked back in her bag, she digs out her phone, and sends Brittany a text message.

 _You really didn't have to do that, Britt. But that doesn't mean I don't love that you did._ She sends, shoving the phone back in the pocket of her elastic waisted jeans.

 _Heading into surgery. But I didn't do anything?_ The reply comes quickly, and Santana furrows her brow.

 _You didn't upgrade my ticket?_

 _I didn't. But now I wish I did!_

 _Hmm, I guess it was just the airline. Okay, I love you. I'm boarding soon. Good luck in surgery, call you when I land._

 _Love you too, and give those babies a kiss for me._

Though she knows she might regret it when she has to pee ten minutes into her flight, Santana grabs a cup of coffee before she wheels her carry on down the jetway. As soon as she boards the plane, she sees a blonde grinning at her from the seat beside her in first class, and she has to laugh, shaking her head as the man across the aisle stands up to help her stow her bag in the overhead bin.

"Hey sweet cheeks!" Holly Holiday grins. "Took you long enough. Hope you like your upgrade."

"That was _you?_ "

"Come on, I couldn't handle sitting up here all by myself when I knew you were shoving that basketball sized abdomen in the back of the plane. Shelby told me you were on my flight, so I took it upon myself to get some company."

"You didn't have to do that." Santana ducks her head sheepishly, settling into the aisle seat. "Really."

"Please." She waves her off. "Least I could do for my favorite peds surgeon."

"Well, considering I figured I'd be fine when I decided not to change my ticket, and this morning I was _kind of_ dreading coach, I seriously appreciate it."

"Lopez, every time I see you running around the hospital like you're not lugging two kids with you, I'm impressed." Holly sits back in her seat, buckling herself in. "So how's your presentation looking?"

"Good. I finished it last night. I figured I might pass out on the plane, so I didn't want to leave anything up to chance."

"Mind if I have a look?" She raises her eyebrows, with an excitement that only another surgeon would have. "Or do you not want to spoil the surprise?"

"Here." Santana laughs, taking her iPad out of her briefcase and opening up the document containing it. "Enjoy reading about localized radiation in conjunction with ependymoma removal."

"Oh, don't you worry, I will."

Despite the coffee, Santana falls asleep a half hour into the flight. She feels really bad that she doesn't have it in her to stay up and talk to Holly, but she didn't sleep well last night knowing that she'd be leaving, and honestly, hefting around her added weight makes her more exhausted than she could have ever imagined.

When she wakes up, they're landing in Phoenix, and she shares a car with Holly out to the hotel where the conference is being held. While she'd really love to go up to her room and stay on FaceTime with Brittany and Liam until she falls asleep, she insists on taking Holly to an early dinner after they check in. She appreciates the company, and she knows Brittany does too, worried that she'd be anxious alone and pregnant far from home, but by the time they're done talking about Holly's keynote address and Santana's future plans, she's ready to turn in for the night.

It's just about Liam's bedtime when she gets upstairs, and Santana takes a quick shower and changes into her pajamas before she gets them on the phone. They're snuggled in his bed, and Santana feels a pang, missing them terribly already. She doesn't know how Brittany manages to do this all the time, she doesn't know how she can handle the travel and the hotel rooms and he being away, but she does it, and Santana gives her so much more credit than she can begin to express.

"Mommy Noodle!" Liam smushes his face against the screen. "You can read me the Crayon book! Mama didn't read it yet, okey?"

"Oh, you know the crayon book is my favorite." Santana laughs, settling back in her pillows. "I need Mama to hold the pages where I can see them, okay?"

"Okey! Okey! I am ready!"

Resting her phone on her belly, Santana reads _The Day the Crayons Quit_ in its entirety, even though Liam falls asleep three-quarters of the way through. When she's done, Brittany holds the phone, just letting her watch him sleep for a few moments, and she sighs heavily.

"Are you alright, Santana?" Brittany whispers, tucking Liam in and turning out his lights.

"Mmhm, just…wish I were home."

"We wish you were too." Santana watches Brittany turn the lights on in the bedroom, and set the phone down on the dresser so she can unbutton her blouse.

"Not helping."

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to step out of the view of the phone so you don't have to watch."

"Don't you dare." She leans back in bed and crosses her legs at the ankles. "If I have to sleep alone, I at least want to watch you undress."

"Anything that makes you happy, Santana."

It's possible that Santana gets a _little_ carried away watching Brittany undress. Though she decides not to touch herself, instead, laying her iPad on the pillow beside her so she can fall asleep with Brittany, she wakes up in the middle of the night after an _extremely_ vivid sex dream. Her hormones have run wild, she knows that, and considering the dream involved Brittany bending her over her desk at work, something she would _never_ even consider, they seem to be even worse away from her wife.

The next morning, she's exhausted from her fitful sleep, but she gets dressed slowly, making sure that her maternity skirt and blouse look normal on her. She's a little nervous, even though she's not speaking until tomorrow, she's a little…embarrassed of how heavily pregnant she looks, and the idea that it will draw unwanted attention toward her, but there's nothing she can do about it. She _is_ gestating twins, and they—and she—gets bigger every day.

She takes over a hundred pages of notes, until her fingers cramp like they used to in medical school, but she loves to absorb information. She loves the idea of getting better and better and better in her field. Being a great doctor is one of the things she's most proud of, one of the only things she managed to accomplished on her own, and as exhausted as she is, she's thoroughly enjoying all the learning she's doing.

After the day's events are over, she goes to the cocktail party and sips ginger ale from a wineglass. Though she's itching to get to bed, she fully takes in conversation with the _greats_ in pediatrics that take the time to talk to her, peppering medical conversations with questions about her pregnancy, and from those who have been there, tips on how to handle surgeries as she gets increasingly bigger.

Liam is asleep when she gets back to the hotel room, but she FaceTimes Brittany, falling asleep again with her on the pillow beside her. The next morning, she's an absolute wreck. She feels like her skirt is too tight and her blouse shows too much cleavage, so she tugs at herself the whole way down to the conference room, finally deciding to button her blazer and just…deal with it.

When she gets up to the podium, Holly gives her a thumbs up from the fifth row, and she bites her lip, smiling at how much she feels like a third grader saying the Pledge of Allegiance at a school assembly. That's how she gets sometimes at things like this, like she's a little fish in a _very_ big pond. But she measures her tone, she articulates and projects, she avoids reading off the prompter as much as she possibly can, and she smiles, because she _is_ proud of her work, even if she's just a young doctor at the very start of her career.

There is applause when she finishes, and Santana waits until she's off the stage to unbutton the constricting blazer. She goes back to her seat in the rear of the room, and when, after two more hours, they finally break for lunch, Santana feels a tap on the back of her neck. At first, she's annoyed, already hot and prickly, even in the air conditioner, and never one to favor her personal space being violated, but when she turns her head, she gasps, and feels tears spring to her eyes like some kind of lunatic.

"How did you…? When did you…? You're _here._ "

"I'm here." A smile spreads across Brittany's face, and professional decorum be damned, Santana wraps her arms around her wife as people mull around them, and feels her whole body relax. "You did an amazing job."

"I can't believe you're here. Britt—"

"I hope it's okay that I am, I wanted to surprise you, and maybe steal you away for a little babymoon in Sedona when your conference is over tonight."

"Of course it's okay you're here. It's…basically the best thing ever. And you really want to take me on a babymoon?"

"I do. I didn't change anything, in case you want to go home in the morning, but, Liam is with your mom for the weekend, so whatever you'd like to do, you'll have me all to yourself."

"Wow." Santana breathes, a rush of…so many different emotions hitting her all at once. "That sounds really good. And…I think I'd rather go to Sedona than go right home. I was only in a rush to get back to the concrete jungle, where I feel like I might die of heatstroke every time I step out of the house, when _you_ were there."

"There's a spa resort there which supposedly has amazing prenatal services. I'd love if you let me have you pampered all weekend."

"Britt?"

"Yes."

"Seriously, why are you like this? Why do you treat me so well?"

"Because I love you, and all I want is for you to be happy and relaxed, and to feel at peace."

"Thank you. For everything you do, every single day."

After Santana grabs a quick sandwich for lunch, she gives Brittany the key to her hotel room, so she can pack her things, and sits through the remainder of the conference, still furiously taking notes, though she's thrilled by the idea of her surprise getaway with Brittany. Before she leaves the conference center, Santana finds Holly, and she thanks her profusely for her plane ticket, for introducing her to some of her prolific friends, and for overall just being a mentor and a support system. Of course, as always, it's in the back of Santana's mind that she still may want to pursue neonatology someday, but she knows right now isn't the time. When it comes though, she's sure Holly will be the first to know.

Brittany is in the lobby when Santana gets there, and she feels such a surge of emotion when she sees her. It stays with her through checkout, and even when she's settled in the passenger seat of the car Brittany rented, it doesn't subside. There's just something about the way Brittany loves her that she doesn't think she'll ever get over. Something about knowing there is someone who will love and support and protect her no matter what that settles her in such a visceral way.

She doesn't sleep for the entire drive to Sedona. She leans her head against the window, rests her hands on her swollen abdomen, and she watches how Brittany drives so carefully on unfamiliar roads. She's beautiful in the glow of synthetic light, she's beautiful always, and Santana sighs, amazed that she gets to spend the rest of her life with her.

Though she still has a perpetual ache between her thighs from whatever it is the hormones are doing to her, she's too exhausted to do any more than crawl into Brittany's arms under the softest hotel sheets she's ever slept on. She closes her eyes and lays like that, listening to the sound of Brittany's heart, feeling the soft stroke of fingertips through her long, loose hair and over the swell of her belly. It has only been two nights since she slept in her arms, but it had felt like an eternity, and now, now she's comforted in a way that lets her sleep soundly through the night.

In the morning, Brittany has breakfast delivered to the room. Santana leans against the headboard of the bed, and smiles as Brittany brings her avocado toast and hard cooked eggs. Brittany sits cross-legged across from her, and Santana has to lean over to kiss her, pressing her forehead into her wife's, and holding the side of her face. She's filled with emotion, she's _always_ filled with emotion these days, but this is the good kind, the kind that makes her want to close her eyes and wish that she'll always feel this happy.

"I think I'm getting spoiled by you." She smiles against her mouth. "The kids are going to come out rotten."

"Stop." Brittany laughs, running her hand over the top of Santana's bump. "They're just seeing what love is very early on. Can I…"

"Mmhm." Santana nods, lifting up her shirt. She's sensitive about it, being touched and kissed where she feels so…different, but she always tries to let Brittany experience everything with her, she always tries not to clam up and deny Brittany every part of this pregnancy. "Go ahead."

"Hello, sweet babies." Shuffling down so she's laying on her belly with her legs kicked up behind her, Brittany places soft kisses below Santana's naval. "Look how big you're getting in there."

"I feel like they're really tiny humans now, Britt. Ten inches, that's like…we could hold them in our hands. I just hate that I can't feel them moving yet, I feel like it's really late, and it weirds me out."

"They're probably just really snug in there, Santana. You're so _tiny._ "

"I don't _feel_ tiny anymore. I look like I'm about to give birth any day."

"Halfway there." Brittany smiles, kissing up Santana's torso until she reaches her lips. "And another scan in a few weeks."

"I still can't decide if I want to know the sex or not. I mean, I feel like nothing can shock me more than finding out there were two in there, but I don't know if I want to wait until they're born for another."

"You know I'm okay with either choice. I'm just so glad that they're healthy, and _you're_ healthy." She smiles, tenderly pulling down Santana's shirt. "We haven't really talked about your anxiety though."

"I'm…getting there, I think. I'm still a little, I don't know, freaked, but I don't feel that same pervasive sense of fear that I did at first. I guess it was just _unexpected._ If we'd done a multiple embryo transfer, then I would have been prepared for the possibility, you know? But having it split, and…identicals. I mean, what if I can't tell them apart and I'm a horrible mother? Remember that episode of _Full House,_ where they mixed up the twins."

"Honey." Brittany stifles a laugh. "I don't think mixing them up will make you a horrible mother. I happen to know first hand that you are such a good mom. And yeah, maybe we might get confused a little at first, but we'll know them. They're _ours._ "

"That's still kind of crazy to me."

They take their time getting ready. When Brittany tells Santana she has a couples massage scheduled for them at noon, Santana puts on a pair of leggings and a loose fitting top, her _pregnancy uniform,_ she teases, and Brittany hugs her close, kissing the top of her head. They go down to the spa, and though Santana really is hesitant about a stranger touching her naked body, she relaxes at the sound of the music, the smell of lavender salts, and the idea that Brittany is only a few feet away from her.

She nearly falls asleep on the table, belly in a protective cradle through the hole there. The masseuse works knots out of her lower back that didn't even know she had, and she breathes in and out, in and out, focusing on the health of herself and her babies. She assumes they're close to done, when a strange sensation washes over her, and she feels a push in her abdomen. At first, terror hits her hard and fast, but then…she realizes what's happening. Then, she realizes that though she's yet to feel even the slightest twinge of movement inside of her, one of the babies is nudging and she sits up with a start.

"Santana?" Brittany mirrors her motions on the other table with alarm, startling her masseuse. "Are you alright?"

"I…can you just…" She shakes her head, and Brittany is at her side in an instant, accepting the towel that is handed to her, and covering Santana with it before she grabs another. "Just…here."

"Where?"

"Here. Hold your hand here. I think…I think I felt something."

"Okay, alright." Brittany presses her hand gently where Santana shows her. Santana closes her eyes, tries to bring herself back to the same state of being that caused it to happen the first time, and she waits, putting her hand over Brittany's.

It doesn't happen again, and Santana feels a sinking feeling in her stomach. She wanted Brittany to feel it, she wanted her to get to experience it, and she flutters her lashes, trying to clear away the tears she knows are forming there. Brittany can always tell when her heart sinks, and she leans forward, kissing her forehead softly.

"We still have a lot of time, honey. I'll feel it, don't worry."

"No, I know, I just…whatever, it's dumb, and I'm hormonal." Santana waves her off, not wanting this to be a _thing._ "This is a really good massage, Britt. Thank you."

Santana lays back on the table, and tries to relax again as she finishes her massage. There's no more kicking, which she actually is _glad_ for, not wanting to set herself up for disappointment if Brittany misses it again. When they're finished, they get pedicures, and really, considering the insanity of her work week, coupled with wanting to spend time at home with Liam, she can't actually remember the last time she had one. But since she can't bend to paint her nails anymore, it's actually the perfect thing, and while the pedicurist scrubs her feet and paints her toes, she takes Brittany's hand and squeezes it in her lap.

After they're done with that, the drive up to see the red rock formations, and they walk for awhile, Santana consuming excessive amounts of water to avoid dehydrating. The quiet is nice, and when they have an late lunch in a restaurant, Santana knows she's making moon eyes across the table at her. This is the first time they've ever really been away alone together, not counting Santana's surgery, and then their one night in the hotel room right after she found out she was pregnant. And as much as Santana _loves_ having Liam with them all the time, there is something really nice about a romantic getaway, where she and Brittany have each other all to themselves.

When they get back to the hotel, Brittany gets in the shower, and Santana can barely wait two minutes before she joins her. She's needy, and she's horny, the clingiest of combinations, but when she climbs in behind her, more careful than she's ever been not to slip, she feels Brittany's smile, even without seeing her face. She slides her hands over Brittany's soapy skin, and presses her chin into her back, cupping her small breasts in her hands.

"Well hello there." Brittany turns slowly, and puts her arm around Santana's waist. When their nipples brush, even with the swell between them, Santana feels a jolt of arousal, snd Brittany takes her bottom lip between her teeth. "Nothing better than being surprised in the shower by my naked wife."

"If I wasn't afraid of slipping and dying, I'd probably have to take you up against the wall right now." Santana husks, trailing her fingers over the curve of Brittany's ass.

"How about you give me five minutes to wash my hair, and you can take me anywhere you want?"

Santana shivers at the thought, and she quickly washes herself, watching as Brittany slowly drags a washcloth between her own legs, smirking and raising her eyebrows as she does. As Brittany's long blonde hair cascades down her back, suds running from it, Santana has to pinch her thighs together, overcome by the desire to touch her, overcome by the desire to hear her name escape from her lips in the sort of reverence reserved for only her.

They're barely dry from the shower when Santana takes Brittany's hand, and leads her over to the turned down bed. When Brittany goes to lay her back, Santana stops her, giving a slight shake of the head, and pressing her shoulders down so she's sitting at the very edge of the bed. Santana touches her knees, pushing them apart, and when Brittany's tucked towel falls from her body, Santana sinks to her knees before her.

"Santana." Brittany whispers, awe in her voice.

"I had a dream about this the other night, and I've been dying to do it since then." She looks into Brittany's darkened eyes, and she kisses a droplet of water from her thigh.

Every since Santana popped, she's found it difficult to settle on her belly without losing her breath, but the _longing_ to pleasure Brittany with her mouth has been pervasive. Kneeling before her like this, spreading her legs wider, watching her grow wetter as she kisses and sucks the creamy skin on the side of her thighs is so sexy that she can't help but slip her left hand between her legs, rubbing herself in slow circles on her clit, as her mouth inches further up toward Brittany's center. There's something almost _pornographic_ about this, Santana thinks, especially for her, who spent most of her life fumblingly touching with clothes on, but it's really sexy, and she can tell by the way Brittany's eyes drift down to where she touches herself that she thinks so too.

Brittany inches closer to the edge of the bed, and she gently touches the back of Santana's neck, urging her closer, urging her mouth to her sex. When Santana tastes her, she moans, sending vibrations through Brittany's body, and coupled with the touching of herself, she's afraid she might come before she even starts to pleasure Brittany. Her hand between her leg stills, and she sees the slightest headshake from her wife, who smiles.

"Don't stop." Brittany breathes. "Watching you is…wow."

Swallowing hard, Santana wraps her lips around Brittany's clit and enters herself with two fingers, clenching around them as she does. It's an almost out of body experience, especially when Brittany gives raspy directions, telling her _pretend it's me, curl your fingers, ugh, your tongue, right there_ muddling whether she's talking about Santana's actions on her own body, or Brittany's. Santana comes first. She does, usually, and normally it embarrasses her, but Brittany threads her fingers though her hair, and keeps guiding her, throwing her head back and moaning as Santana probes her tongue against her entrance.

Santana can't stop curling her fingers inside of herself, she can't stop _quivering,_ and when she finally pushes Brittany over the edge, her whole body quakes with a second powerful orgasm. Brittany grips her side with shaking hands, afraid Santana might fall back. Santana just stares up at her for several moments, taking in the sweat on her brow, her erect nipples, right hand still slowly squeezing a pale breast, the flush that covers her whole body, the look of love and lust and adoration in her eyes.

When Santana finally makes to stand, not able to wait any longer to kiss her wife, to crawl beneath the sheets with her and sleep naked in her arms, a shooting pain stabs at the back of her calf, and she yelps, catching herself on the corner of the bed. Brittany is on her feet in an instant, and she pulls Santana by the waist, eyes coloring in deep concern.

"Santana, what's wrong? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Agh. Fuck. Motherfucking shit." Santana cries, tears running down her face. "Another stupid fucking charley horse."

"Oh honey, I'm sorry." Brittany lifts her gingerly and sets her down on the bed.

"God, this is so not sexy." Santana pulls her leg up as much as she can, though she can't get it too close with the _orb_ that protrudes from her. "Fuck. Why the fuck am I taking potassium and magnesium and all of this other _crap_ witch doctor shit if this keeps happening?"

"Baby." Brittany bites her lip. "Let me rub it out for you."

"I—" Santana can't help but laugh, even through her pain, when Brittany begins rubbing her calves. "I thought I took care of that."

Brittany just chuckles in response, continuing to massage the tightened muscle in Santana's leg and pepper kisses along her hairline and eyelids until she relaxes. Once she does, she kisses Brittany's lips, holding the kiss there for a long time, just…needing it. Her breath is still labored from the pain of the spasm, but to kiss Brittany feels good, to kiss Brittany is calming.

"Do you want me to get you water? Or pajamas? Or anything else?" Brittany asks, still concerned with Santana's wellbeing.

"Uh-uh." She shakes her head. "Want to lay naked with you and feel you up against me."

"That's easy enough." Brittany smiles, kissing her forehead and shuffling behind Santana, pulling Santana into her arms, and the blanket over them both.

Contentedly, Santana sighs, and tangles her fingers with Brittany, before settling their joined hands below her naval. She likes when they sleep like this, she feels secure and loved, she feels like the _babies_ are secure and loved, with Brittany's unwavering fortitude, and she closes her eyes, just breathing it in, until the same sensation she'd felt earlier comes back, bubbling low in her belly, and producing a _nudge, nudge, nudge_ just where Brittany's hand rests.

"Britt, do you—"

"I do." Brittany sucks in a breath, barely whispering. "They like when you're laying down."

"I read that in the book too." Santana swallows hard. "I wonder which one it is."

"It's strange, isn't it? I wonder if you'll figure out anything about their personalities while they're still in there."

"Well one of them is up under my ribs now, so maybe that's the shy one."

"That could be." Brittany moves her hand up under Santana's breasts and rubs it across there. "Are you shy in there, little one?"

"I love when you talk to them."

"Yeah? I wasn't sure how you felt about it, I don't want to overstep and make you uncomfortable with anything."

"They're your babies, Brittany. I know that they're in my body, but I want you to know that…that you always have the right to just… _be here_ with them, okay?"

"Okay." A slow smile comes across Brittany's lips, and she kisses the side of Santana's head. "I love that."


	62. Chapter 62

After their babymoon, Santana's body decides it wants to present every symptom of pregnancy all at once. Her feet swell, her face swells, her hands swell, she's perpetually hot, even as summer turns to fall, her back aches, she develops hemorrhoids and gets a yeast infection, but is still somehow in a constant state of arousal. And as a result, she becomes an absolute _bitch_ at work. She was never a warm and fuzzy attending, she doesn't consider herself a warm and fuzzy _human,_ but she finds herself losing patience faster than ever before. Never with her patients, she's good about that, but when she shares an OR with Anderson, and he makes the mistake of calling her _Rosemary,_ she nearly uses her scalpel to castrate him.

It's intolerable for her, but she refuses to stay home from work. If she's not at the hospital, what the hell else will she do all day? Page her residents to make sure they're not fucking up? Paint the nursery that they have already changed the paint color of twice, because the green made her angry, and the yellow made her feel like she was in that short story about the woman in the wallpaper? Walk around Buy Buy Baby crying when she sees tiny clothes, because she's afraid her babies are going to be born early and have to wear them? No. She's going to stay in this hospital and doing surgeries until she is physically dragged off the floor.

Unfortunately for Santana, when she hits twenty-four weeks, that is exactly what happens. It's supposed to be a routine visit with Roz, and Santana is late. Brittany waits for her in the waiting room, and when Santana finally gets up there, her face is flushed and her chest is hot. She'd worked on a piggyback transplant with Mercedes, and the surgery took almost two hours longer than she'd thought, giving her no time to change out of her scrubs before she bolted upstairs, groaning at her lower back pain as she leaned against the wall of the elevator.

"Roz is going to fucking kill me." Santana lowers herself into the chair beside Brittany, pulling her ponytail out, before putting it immediately back in. "If my back doesn't give out first."

"Santana…" Brittany eyes her with concern. "You…really don't look good."

"Gee, thanks." Santana rolls her eyes. "I just did a six hour surgery, so…I wasn't exactly at the hair salon."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Brittany turns to face her, raising an eyebrow. "You're flushed, and you look like you're in pain."

"I'm _fine._ It was just a really long day, and I want to get home and take a bath."

Santana looks at Brittany, and softens a little, taking her hand. Maybe she's being a little…bristly, but she really is exhausted, and she feels bad for snapping at her. Brittany rubs Santana's shoulders, breaking up some of the tension, and it's possible that Santana lets out a little moan right in the empty waiting room.

When Roz comes out to get them, Santana holds her back as she goes into the exam room. She swore she wouldn't be that person, she swore she'd power through her pregnancy symptoms, but lately, it just feels completely impossible.

Brittany stands beside the table as Roz takes Santana's blood pressure, and they both see the look that crosses her face. They've both _given_ that look, and Santana's heart drops into her stomach. Without skipping a single beat, she grabs Brittany's hand, and squeezes it as hard as she can, sucking in air.

"What?" She looks at Roz. "What's wrong?"

"Your blood pressure is a higher than I'd like to see it. I want to do a urinalysis to check your protein levels."

"Do I have preeclampsia?" Santana gasps for air. "Because I read that it's more common with twin pregnancies, and—"

"Santana. Take a breath. Your blood pressure is high, but that's the only thing I can see right now. We'll do the ultrasound, and then when you empty your bladder, we'll do another test."

"Fucking Christ." She hisses, and Brittany puts her arm around Santana's waist, holding her close and tickling her side.

"It'll be okay, honey. It'll be okay."

"You don't know that." Santana grits her teeth, not wanting to snap at Brittany.

"You're right." Brittany shakes her head. "I don't, but I believe that it will be. You've been so overwhelmed, a spike in your blood pressure is natural."

Santana doesn't say another word. She _can't_ say another word, she just feels so overwhelmed by the mere idea that her worst fears are coming into fruition that she starts crying when she hears the babies' heartbeats. It's not good crying, it's not happy crying, it's ugly sobs, and she can't catch her breath. Even when her two beautiful babies show up on the screen, one's little hand on the other's face, she can't stop. Roz keeps trying to reassure her, telling her that everything looks good on the ultrasound, but Santana is just an emotional wreck. It's too much, and when she finally pulls her scrub top down over her taut belly, she moves faster than she has in weeks to get into the bathroom and give her urine sample.

When she comes out, she hands Roz the cup, and she sits back on the exam table, not saying a single word to neither her nor Brittany. She feels like she's going to be sick, and she reaches over and takes the ultrasound photograph from the table. She looks at the babies, who look more like they're hugging than she'd realized on screen. She thinks of Liam, and the surgery on the conjoined twins she and Brittany did together not long after they met, the _huggin' babies._ She sees her unborn babies, touching each other in the womb, and she feels such a sense of panic that she can't breathe.

"Your protein levels are normal." Roz tells them, after what feels like an eternity of waiting. "So no preeclampsia, which is great. _But,_ the high blood pressure isn't good. How many hours did you spend in surgery this week?"

"Um." Santana looks at Brittany, while she calculates in her head. "Maybe thirty-five, forty?"

"And how many hours were you in this hospital?"

"Sixty…ish. Seventy, maybe? I ended up covering the overnight for Shelby on Tuesday."

"You need to take a break."

"No, I'm fine." Santana shakes her head. "I'm not having any problems, I have three months to go, and I'm going to make it to the end."

"Dr. Lopez." Roz's voice turns serious. "This isn't a request. I'm prescribing a week off of work, and when I take your blood pressure again next week, if it hasn't gone down, I'm going to put you on temporary bed rest."

"That's _insane._ I have patients, and scheduled surgeries, and—"

"Two babies who need their mother to be healthy. I could see when you came in here how red and flushed you were. Let's see what a week out of the hospital does, and we'll go from there."

"Okay." Santana mutters, though she's not happy about it, and she that _Brittany_ knows she's not happy about it. "But I'm telling you right now, _not_ working is going to stress me out more than working."

"We'll see about that." Roz rolls her eyes. "I'll see you next week. I'll fax a note down to Corcoran."

Santana leaves the room frustrated. On one hand, she's so grateful that Roz seems to think her high blood pressure isn't a permanent condition, but on the other, the idea of having to stay home from work makes her positively nauseous. As they walk down the hall, Brittany gives her space. Santana knows that her wife knows she needs to process _everything,_ about a thousand times more than any normal person, so when Brittany goes to get Liam from daycare, Santana goes into her office, trying to manage her patient files for the upcoming week so she can go see Shelby and drop them off before they leave.

Dragging her feet down the hall, Santana gets to Shelby's office. The lights are on, so she knocks on the door, waiting to be called in. When Shelby waves her inside, she takes a breath, and clutches her files to her chest, shifting her weight between her feet—something that makes her feel so much more unsteady than it ever had before.

"Dr. Washington is putting me on a mandatory week off." Santana blurts out, face burning in embarrassment. "Apparently my blood pressure is too high, and if I don't take it easy, I'm going to end up on bed rest."

"Sit." Shelby tells her, nodding toward the chair across from her desk.

"Are you pissed?"

"No, I'm not mad, I'm concerned is all. You have been running yourself into the ground for as long as I've known you, and I'm going over surgical reports as we speak. You've done more surgeries in the past month than you've done in any single month of your career. You seem to be pushing yourself harder than ever, when you should be doing _less._ "

"I'm pregnant, not dying. Remember when scrub nurse Ruby had her baby? She worked up until the day she went into labor, and she never stopped being the best nurse in this hospital."

"That's all well and good, Santana, but you and I both know a twin pregnancy is different." Shelby sets down her pencil, and Santana rubs her hand over her abdomen as one of the babies kicks. "I think we should talk about modifying your caseload when you come back, and limiting your new patients until after you come back from maternity."

"Excuse me, Shelby, I know you're my boss, but _why_ is everyone obsessed with taking away the sanity I find while I'm working today? I _know_ Brittany is thrilled that Roz wants me to take time off, she's been trying to get me to do it since I got back from Arizona."

"Because while I may be your boss, I've told you before that I care about you, and I certainly care about the first set of twins born to someone in this department. I'm certainly not asking you to take off beyond what your doctor tells you, you're my best surgeon, I'm just asking you to consider making some changes. If it makes you feel better, we can even set up a meeting while you're off, so you feel like you're working."

"I'll think about it. As long as I _can_ do surgeries, I want to do surgeries. I have relationships with these patients and their families. You know how much I hate passing them off."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that, and it's commendable. But I want you to be well also. When you make a decision, we'll work together to come up with a plan. And I'll let HR know you're taking a paid medical week off."

"Okay." Santana nods, knowing she looks sullen. "I'll let you know what I decide after I talk to Brittany."

"That sounds good. Just get some rest, Santana. After all the work you've put on here, you've earned it."

Handing over her files, Santana thanks Shelby again, and she leaves, finding Brittany and Liam in Brittany's office. Liam jumps up from where he sits on the floor coloring, running toward Santana, and wrapping his arms around her midsection. He squeezes her tightly, and she bends the best she can to wrap him in her embrace. He smushes his face into her abdomen, and pats the sides of it.

"Hi Mommy Noodle, hi little baby friends. Yous can be kickin' me if you want now! I misseded you!"

"I think they might be sleeping, Sir." Santana smiles at him. "They had a very busy day getting their new pictures taken."

"Where are them? Where are them? Where are them? I want to see you, babies!"

"How about we show you at home, Li?" Brittany offers. "It's very late, and we need to get home and eat the lasagna that's waiting for us."

"Yum! I loves lasa-nia! Okey, we can go now."

Santana is quiet in the car on the way home, hands rubbing over her belly. She knows she was snappish with Brittany, and she feels bad about it, but she's just…overwhelmed by the idea of not going to work. She's overwhelmed that her blood pressure is too high. She's overwhelmed that her babies could be at risk. She's just…overwhelmed with herself, and she hates that sometimes she lashes out on people who don't deserve it.

When they get home, Santana sinks down into a chair in the kitchen, and Liam scrambles up beside her, anxious to see the ultrasound picture. Brittany puts the lasagna in the oven, and she comes over to stand behind Santana's chair, watching as she pulls the picture out of the folder in her briefcase and sets it down so Liam can see. As soon as he looks at the babies, his little eyes light up, and he points frantically at the photo.

"Look! Look! Them babies is huggin'! Them babies is huggin'!"

"They are, aren't they Li?" Brittany ruffles his hair. "They're very close together inside Mommy's little belly."

"Mama." He looks up at Brittany seriously. "Mommy Noodle's belly is _very_ big."

"It is, isn't it?" Santana lets out a big laugh, the kind of laugh she really _needed_ to have. "But they're still a little squished in there, so they're very close together."

"I want to hug them too!" He slides down off the chair, and wraps his arms around Santana's middle. "Look, now I is huggin' them too."

"Take a picture of this, Britt." Santana looks up, and Brittany already has her phone out, snapping the shot of Liam with his arms stretched out as wide as they can be. "They love that you're hugging them, Liam."

"Are they comin' out yet?"

"Not yet, Sir. But hey, I bet tonight when we're reading your books, they're going to wake up to play with you."

"Why do they always wake up in bedtime?"

"You're telling me, Liam." Santana chuckles a little, thinking of how much they keep her up at night with all their activity. "They like to sleep when I'm busy, they don't have so much fun when I'm busy doing work all day, and you and Mama aren't near me to feel them."

"Hmm. Okey." Liam accepts that answer. "I see you later, babies. Almost lasa-nia time!"

Liam does much of the talking through dinner. Afterwards, Brittany takes him up for his bath, and Santana regrets how hard it is for her to lean over the tub. Instead of stewing on it though, she goes into Liam's room, and she straightens up a little, before taking his pajamas out of the drawer, and his lotion from the dresser. When he's done in the tub, he tears into the room naked, and when Brittany follows him, she just smiles at Santana, shaking her head.

"Alright you, over here." Santana calls to him. "Pajama time."

"Pajama time! Pajama time! Pajama time!" He dances naked, before he runs to Santana. It still shocks her how big he's getting, and when he gets close, she hugs him, kissing his damp head.

She's always so gentle with his lotion, still, after all the time she's been around him, a little nervous about hurting his sensitive skin. But he's so used to having it put on him that he doesn't squirm, he just lets her do it, and then wriggles into his pajamas before pulling six books from the shelf.

"Six tonight, Li?"

"Six, Mama! Two for me, and four for them babies."

"I can't even say no to that." Brittany laughs. "But let's see if Mommy is up for reading six books, okay?"

"I think six books sounds good. Come here, Liam." Santana lays back on the bed. "The babies are waking up, and they want some big brother cuddles."

Once Liam is down for the night, Santana really just wants to soak in the tub. Everything in her body feels tight, and she's just exhausted. At least, she guesses, while she's home moaning and groaning about having nothing to do, she'll be able to take all the baths she wants. It's a small consolation, but what else can she do?

"Hey Britt?" She looks at her, standing at the dresser and taking her earrings out. "You feel like taking a bath with me?"

"Yeah?" Brittany raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah…sorry…I was really kind of a jerk to you in Roz's office today."

"You're worried."

"I'm _really_ worried. Like, more fucking worried than I've ever been about anything in my life. And I know I'm lashing out about not being able to work for the next week, but…" Santana shakes her head, not wanting to let herself cry. "I really don't want to fuck this up. _Nothing_ can happen to them, Britt. _Nothing._ "

"Hey, Santana, look at me." Brittany tilts her chin up. "You're doing everything Roz says to do. If taking a little time away from the hospital doesn't help, then you'll go on bed rest, and I'll figure something out at work. You're not going through this alone, okay? I'm here, I'm right here."

That's all it takes for Santana to start crying. Big, ugly, hiccuping sobs as she lets Brittany engulf her in an embrace, rubbing her sides, kissing her head. It's the stress, yes, but also, it's knowing that she really, truly isn't alone. That her wife, the same woman who took care of her after her surgery, the same woman who trusted her enough to adopt her son, the same woman who wanted to _have_ these babies with her, just won't ever let her go.

"Our babies are okay. They're in good hands, they've got two doctors for moms, and _one_ of them happens to be an incredible pediatric surgeon who is the biggest rule follower I've ever met, and that's coming from _me._ "

"I hate that I'm such a stressed out mess."

"You have a high stress job." Brittany shakes her head. "You save kids' lives every day. Come on, let's take a bath, and then if you want one, I'll give you a massage."

"Yeah…okay." Santana nods. "Just remind me not to forget to do the cocoa butter after. I feel like I get thirty new stretch marks every day."

"I'm kind of a fan." She kisses Santana's temple. "But I won't forget."

When the tub is filled, Santana realizes that she's so grateful for the size of it. It's not like she and Brittany bathe together often, they're usually running around with Liam, and work, and everything else, taking quick showers while fighting exhaustion. But tonight, it feels really good to slip in between Brittany's legs in the bath, and lay back against her body. It feels good to watch her belly poke above the water, and watch Brittany turn the tap with her foot until it covers her completely. It feels good, the way the babies move more than normal, and Brittany's hands move with them, exploring their movements.

"Mmm. They like the bath." Santana hums, closing her eyes.

"They do. This is the most active I've felt then so far."

"They were pretty active when I napped in the on-call room the other night, but I think this is the most I've felt them too. I can't believe they're opening their eyes."

"Ten more weeks until the goal." Brittany smiles into Santana's hair.

"To _Roz's_ goal. I'd really like to make it to at least thirty-seven."

"New Years babies."

"I'm really not trying to be in the hospital for Christmas. You know how insane it is there."

"But if you _had_ them at Christmas, we'd both be on leave, and I wouldn't have to work the overnight on Christmas Day." Brittany sing-songs, and Santana knows she's just trying to convince her it'll be fine if she goes when Roz says she will. "Thirty-six weeks is healthy, Santana, just don't forget that."

"I know." She shakes her head. "Hey Britt?"

"Yes?"

"You still don't want to find out?"

"I don't, but like I told you, if you really do, we can."

"I think I'm getting more okay with not. There's not really a surprise that could top finding out there were two humans inside of me, so we'll just find out when they come out."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Santana nods. "I mean, you know, for today."

"Honey, whatever you want." Brittany laughs. "As long as we don't change the color of the nursery again."

"I swear this one is good." Santana takes Brittany's hands in hers, really feeling how the warm water has made her soft and sleepy. "We do have to start picking other things out though. I know I said I was superstitious, but…if I end up on bed rest…I really don't want to go baby shopping on Amazon. This is the first time we've _done_ this, you know? And the _last,_ since shop is _closed_ after this. I guess I just want it to be special."

"Do you want it to be just us? Or Liam too?"

"No, definitely Liam too. I think he'd have fun, since he's already including them in everything."

"What if I come pick you up after work tomorrow, and we go downtown, go make a registry, and have dinner?"

"Yeah." Santana nods. "Okay. I think that would distract me from the fact that I'll be stuck here all day. I guess I'll probably go get waxed and get a pedicure or something, since I'm supposed to be relaxing."

"I still don't understand how you count getting waxed as relaxing. And you know you don't have to do it on my account, right?"

"I know. And you know I _love_ that you're a little more natural than I am, but I just can't kick the habit. I've been waxing since I was sixteen, so…I don't think I'm ready for that."

"Whatever makes you comfortable. But I think going to get pampered is good. And I'm sure your mom would come down and spend time with you this week too."

"Britt, I love my mom, but I think that might stress me out more than anything. I don't know, I guess I'll catch up on reality TV or something, introduce the babies to the Housewives."

"Sounds like quality television." Brittany laughs, kissing the side of Santana's neck. "Have you ever had time to just sit at home and do nothing by yourself?"

"In my adult life? Never. The few times that Shelby forced me into taking days off because I worked too many hours in a row, I pretty much just took a pill and slept all day. So, this'll be interesting."

"It'll be good. You'll get rested, and be back in surgery soon."

"God, I hope so, Britt."

Throughout the night, Santana's sleep is restless. She swears, knowing about her high blood pressure is only going to make it _higher,_ and finally, at two-thirty, Brittany gets up, goes downstairs, and makes Santana a cup of SleepyTime tea, before rubbing her back until she falls asleep.

She ends up sleeping in. Brittany comes in with Liam to kiss her goodbye, since they'd decided he should keep with his routine and go to daycare, and she only wakes up for a few minutes until they leave, rolling onto her other side and setting her hand on the opposite side of her abdomen before she falls back to sleep. If nothing else, maybe staying in bed with the blackout shades drawn for two hours later than normal helps her to feel a _little_ less exhausted.

When she finally gets up, Santana changes the sheets on the bed, starts a load of laundry, and sits down with her coffee and an English muffin. Her appetite in the morning has come back, except on the days where one of the twins is shoved up under her ribs and she can't breathe, and she sits and enjoys her breakfast, picking up their copy of _The Ultimate Guide to Lesbian Pregnancy,_ and paging through until she finds where she left off. While she reads and eats, she can feel the babies go from as active as they are throughout the night, to subdued and sleepy inside of her. Absently, Santana wonders how they'll adjust to her relaxation routine, and if they'll even know what to make of it, but she has her mind set on not worrying today. She has her mind set on turning off her pager, and probably falling asleep in the pedicure chair while she has her feet rubbed for an hour.

Once Santana's waxing is done, she feels good about herself. It's a confidence thing for her, she guesses, feeling smooth and soft from between her legs, and all the way down to her ankles, maybe because her scars down always make her feel smooth and soft elsewhere. She loves the feeling of her _own_ legs rubbing together, and so she doesn't do it for anyone's beauty standards, as people might assume, and she doesn't do it because _oh, Daddy will be excited,_ as her esthetician tells her, and she almost throws up, because number one, her babies definitely don't have a daddy, number two, she definitely would never call Brittany _Mama_ during sex, and number three, Brittany definitely doesn't need her to be freshly waxed to _want_ her. It's just something she enjoys, and Santana sinks back into her pedicure chair, closing her eyes as her smooth legs are exfoliated and the dead skin is scraped from her feet.

Completely relaxed from her morning, Santana comes home and lays down on the couch, catching up, as she'd told Brittany, on her episodes of _The Real Housewives of New York._ Halfway through the third one, she falls asleep. When she wakes up, she gets a little twitchy to at least check her work email, and since it's hard to lay on the couch with her computer on her lack of a lap, she swipes through her phone, glad to see there isn't much she missed. She's trusts Rose and Adams with her cases, she _does,_ but still, she wouldn't be her if she ignored her emails all day.

When it gets close to the time Brittany gets off of work, Santana goes upstairs and finally peels off the yoga pants and Columbia sweatshirt she's been wearing all day, and takes a quick shower before switching to maternity jeans and a sweater. Her back feels a little less sore than it did yesterday, but she can't help but wonder if she's actually relaxed, or she was just so lazy all day that she's been tricked into thinking she is. With a sigh, she deals with the stairs again, considering for the dozenth time in a week to just start sleeping downstairs to avoid them all together, and by the time she gets to the bottom, she swears, she could pass out.

Brittany calls her when she's outside, and Santana grabs her purse and goes out to the car. Liam is wiggly and excited in the backseat, and Brittany rolls down his window so Santana can kiss him before she gets in. When she gets into the passenger seat, she leans over to Brittany, letting her kiss linger on her lips for several seconds, before she struggles to pull the seatbelt over herself, and grabs her hand on the center console. She's so glad she's with them finally. Even after her day of relaxation—or more likely, _especially_ after her day of relaxing—she's so grateful to be with them, that she smiles the whole way downtown, listening to Liam sing his heart out in the backseat, holding Brittany's hand tightly, feeling her babies wiggle and kick inside of her.

They eat dinner first. Though Liam began to get sleepy in the car, his macaroni and cheese and ice cream gave him a second wind, and by the time they make it to Buy Buy Baby, he's all over the place, dancing and jumping around as Brittany and Santana look at cribsets and breast pumps and seats that do nearly everything but actually _feed_ the babies.

"Hey Liam." Santana calls him over, while she attempts to try on one of the _dozen_ twin baby carriers. "Look at this."

"You is a kangaroo, Mommy Noodle." He giggles, standing directly in front of her and looking up at her face. "Can I go in?"

"You might be just a little big." She laughs. "But won't it be funny when we have two babies in here?"

"They can be huggin' inside! Just like your belly!"

"That's true, they can. I think they'd like that, while you're at gymnastics, and Mama is away sometimes."

"I may try cut down my travel a bit when they're young, Santana." Brittany comes up behind Santana and rests her head on her shoulder. "Three kids might be a _lot_ in the beginning."

"We definitely didn't expect to go to three from one." Santana turns her head to kiss her lips. "But I have my mom, and I love how much you get to share your work. We'll work it all out. I do think we should get two single carriers too though, so we can both get our baby cuddle on. Honestly, Britt, being here is _so_ surreal to me. Even when we decided to try, I guess I never even really dared to _hope_ that we wouldn't even be married a year that we'd have one baby on the way, let alone too."

"I'm really glad you've adjusted to the idea of twins." Brittany whispers in Santana's ear, handing Liam a package of train printed baby socks to look at.

"Now that they feel more real to me, I guess I can't imagine anything but."

"Mama! This is only one! We got two babies!"

"That's true." Brittany laughs. "We do, but there are quite a few pairs in there, and I think they'll share a lot of their clothes, Li."

"I can share my clothes too!"

"I think they'd love that." Santana attempts to squat down, and Brittany steadies her. "And they'd love if you helped us decide how we should decorate their nursery."

"But what about my room? They can sleep with me!"

"That's so nice of you." Brittany helps Santana stand again. "For a little while, they're going to sleep in mine and Mommy's room, so it's easier to feed them at night, but I _think_ when they're big, they might love to have sleepovers with you. But just like we picked out your room when we moved to New York, we want to pick them out their own special room too."

"I pick stars!"

"Stars, huh?" Santana looks at Brittany. "I like stars."

"Me too! Me too! Me too!"

"Stars sounds really good to me." Brittany nods in approval.

—-

The whole process of registering is weird for Santana. They have the money to buy the things they need for the babies themselves, but she knows how it goes. She knows her mother and Brittany's are going to want to throw them a baby shower. She knows every time a nurse or one of the surgeons in another department have a baby, it's a _thing_ at work, and it's just…necessary. So they scan the things that they want. They choose the double carrier, and the single ones. The double stroller, and the board for Liam to stand on the back if he wants. The cosleeper so it'll be easier to get to them when they're nursing during the night. The towels and the baby bathtub, and the duck that lights up when the water of the right temperature, even though Santana had laughed along with Rainbow when she made fun of it on _Blackish._ The twin breastpump and the bottles and the stupid drying rack that looks like grass. The ridiculous rocking, vibrating baby seats, and the Pack and Play so if Brittany is away, and Santana is losing it, she can pack up the kids and go stay at her mother's for the night.

And then they buy. Santana hadn't expected to go in to the store to buy anything, but she can't help but her weepy over the some of the tiniest baby clothes, and neither of them can't help but let Liam put books and toys and various other accoutrements into the cart. They buy the crib sets, beautiful grey and yellow moons and stars. It'll go perfectly with the furniture they ordered, and are patiently waiting for. Some things, they wanted to buy themselves, and the things for the nursery are just that. Santana wants it done, superstitious as she is. She wants the babies to have a _place,_ even if they won't be sleeping in the room just yet. And she wants them to buy it, because it feels like something they should do.

By the time they finish, Santana is tired, and Liam is half asleep, riding in the shopping cart. It's way past his bedtime, they know that, and the store is closing, so they finally load the car, and Brittany settles Liam into his sleep, tucking him beneath the blanket they keep in the car for him. Santana wishes _she_ had one, but she lays her head against the window and closes her eyes, not even realizing that she'd fallen asleep until Brittany is carefully shaking her awake in front of the house. For the very little she did throughout the day, she'd just ravaged, and she can barely find the strength to bring in her own purse from beneath her feet.

By the time Brittany puts Liam into his bed, Santana is in her pajamas and beneath the blankets of their bed. While Brittany changes, she smiles at her, and Santana realizes how much she'd missed her. When she's done washing up, Brittany wastes no time climbing into bed, and Santana curls into her arms, pulling her hands to rest on the sides of her belly where she can best feel the babies. They're all over the place, but Santana is so glad the one place they _aren't_ is on her bladder, since she's not sure she could actually manage getting out of bed.

"Was staying home today as bad as you thought?" Brittany murmurs in her ear.

"It was…okay. I mean, I hate that I missed three surgeries today with patients I've been working with forever, and I miss you and Liam, but…I feel a little relaxed, so…hopefully it did something. I don't know."

"I wish I could stay home with you too." Brittany kisses Santana's neck. "I wish make you breakfast in bed, and give you massages, and take you to lunch."

"Obviously two meals were in there." Santana shakes her head, laughing. "I ate like five times today."

"Well, you're eating for three, so…"

"I'm eating for three." Santana smiles. "And two of whom are going to be _very_ spoiled by their big brother."

"Without a doubt, and it's the greatest thing."

"It really, really is."


	63. Chapter 63

As hard as Santana tries to follow Roz's orders to relax, after the first day, she just can't seem to quiet her mind. Psychically, she takes it easy, having lunch with her mom to plan the absolutely-not-a-surprise-I-swear-to-God-Ma baby shower, folding clothes in the nursery, sorting out Liam's things that have grown to small for him, and starting a first year of school list for him, organizing some of the things she needs done for her mother to watch him and the babies, whatever it takes to not go completely _insane._ But internally, she's jumpy. Internally, she feels like she exists in the state of a silent scream. She doesn't like being restricted. She doesn't like feeling like she has no control over her own life. And most of all, she doesn't like feeling afraid.

She knows it's coming, before her visit with Roz, and she tells Brittany as much, laying in bed the night before. She's taken her own blood pressure enough times to know that it hasn't gone down, and her panic over it probably just sends the numbers straight through the roof. The idea of bed rest has her in a complete tizzy, but the idea of hurting her babies has her even _worse,_ and it sends Brittany running for the trash can when she starts gagging in bed, and finally empties her entire stomach in a fit of nauseous anxiety.

Santana doesn't cry when Roz actually prescribes modified bed rest for her. She goes almost…catatonic, she thinks, just nodding as her doctor speaks, and swallowing the growing lump in the back of her throat. She knows the words she's saying, _high risk,_ and _extra precaution, monitoring_ and _expected outcome._ She's _said_ the words probably thousands of times herself, but she never expected to be this patient. She never thought she'd be fearing for the safety of the two little lives she loves so much, never thought she'd be stuck mostly in her bed, _resting,_ so her babies don't come too early.

Knowing what was coming, Santana thinks, Brittany had asked Maribel to pick up Liam from day care, and bring him back to her house for a sleepover. Santana knows he loves that, knows her mom loves it just as much, but still, she feels sick, she feels invalid, she feels…awful. And when she's done with Roz, scheduling her appointment for the next _week,_ Brittany goes with her to talk to Shelby, to let her know that she has to be out until the twins are born, on top of her already planned for maternity leave. Of course, as she always is, Shelby is supportive, sending them well wishes and prayers and just…sympathy. But it doesn't make Santana feel better. It makes her feel more concerned, it makes her feel like she's going to be violently sick, right on Shelby's office floor.

On the way home, she holds Brittany's hand tightly on the center console of the car. She needs the grip on her, needs the grip on _reality,_ and Brittany squeezes tight, kissing the inside of her wrist, and whispering that she loves her. Santana's other hand rests on her ever growing belly, feeling her babies as they twist and kick and play. They're real. They're so real, and she knows that no matter how frustrated she gets, she would do absolutely anything to make sure they stay right where they belong, until it's safe enough to deliver them.

"I can take the day tomorrow. We can lay in bed together, and then have your mom bring back Liam late in the afternoon."

"Will you?" Santana's voice cracks, through attempting to be strong about this, through pretending that she isn't so utterly desperate for her wife to care for her, though Brittany always does.

"Of course I will. I have a phone call I can't reschedule, but I can do it from home."

"Okay." She nods. "Okay, thank you."

"Like I promised, Santana, I'm right here. You're not doing this alone, okay?"

"Okay. Okay." Santana lets out a shuddering breath. "Okay."

Following Roz's orders, Santana goes up to bed as soon as she gets home. She lays on her side, and she traces her fingertips over her taut skin. She draws hearts and stars and swirls, trying to calm herself down enough so she can breath. When she does, she sings, softly, smoothly, the way she does whenever she's alone with her babies. Tonight, she sings the second verse of _You Are My Sunshine,_ and she cries, as she gets to _the other night dears, as I lay sleeping, I dreamt I held you in my arms._ She's scared, no, she terrified, and her tears turn to sobs, just as Brittany walks in carrying the re-heated chicken Marsala that she'd made for dinner last night.

"Honey." Brittany sets the plate down, and crawls quickly to Santana's side, gathering her up in her arms. "Oh, Santana."

"Please let's not be doctors tonight." Santana clings to her. "Let's pretend I'm a…a journalist, and you're a math professor, and we don't know anything about medicine. And then just promise me without any basis in medical knowledge to make stupid sweeping generalizations that we're fine, that everything is going to alright."

"What if I tell you as a doctor that I have—"

"No." Santana shakes her head. "No _full confidence._ No M.D. stuff. Just pretend you're Dr. Pierce Ph.D., promising me that it's going to be okay."

"Okay." Brittany concedes, holding Santana tighter. "Okay. You're going to be just fine, sweetheart. You're strong, and brave, and beautiful, and you're going to be just fine."

After Santana picks at her dinner, she lays down to sleep. It's a restless sleep, but she tries to keep her eyes closed, tries to do those bullshit meditation techniques she read about on the internet. They don't work, she decides, and finally, at 2:23 in the morning, she opens her eyes, and finds Brittany sitting on her thighs, head bowed and hands folded.

"Brittany?" Santana murmurs.

"Mhmm?" Her eyes snap open, and Santana bites her lip.

"Are you praying?"

"I—yes. I was."

"I didn't realize you prayed. I've never seen you…"

"I don't, typically, at least not often. God is probably over me only doing this when I need Him to do me a favor."

"I—I don't even think I knew you were religious, or even what your religion is."

"I was raised Presbyterian. Liam was baptized in the church my parents used to go to. They stopped after my sister…my father said he gave up on God when He took his baby away. I've taken Liam to church a few times in Boston. My sister and her husband took him every Sunday. She'd nurse him in the pew, and she was comfortable there. I guess…I was talking to her too, asking her to put in a good word on our behalf."

"You're afraid." Santana swallows hard at the thought.

"You're my wife. I don't believe it's possible not to feel afraid when you're hurting."

"Do you think something is going to happen?" Santana forgets all she'd said earlier about pretending they're not doctors, about promising it will be okay.

"I don't. But that doesn't make me worry any less. I love you, Santana, more than I've ever loved anyone but our son and these babies. I just want to make sure you and they are well, no matter what means I have to use to insure it."

"I haven't even been thinking about how you must feel. I'm sorry." She shakes her head. "I've been so caught up in myself."

"The last thing I want is for you to worry about me. I just want you to take care of you. And—" Brittany gingerly places her hands on Santana's stomach. "Them. I'm going to cancel my trip to Atlanta."

"Brittany. No you're not. It's the American Board of Plastic Surgery conference. You're going. I'm fine here. My mom will come stay with us. I need you to just, not…I need you to go. I need not everything to stop. Okay?"

"Santana."

"Please, Britt. Please go to it. It's a big deal, and nothing is going to change here. I'll still be in bed, and you'll still be able to buy me Chicago popcorn in the middle of the night when you get back."

"Is that a hint that you want Chicago popcorn?" Brittany laughs, wiping away her lingering tears.

"You don't have to go. I'm fine."

"I may have stashed a few bags somewhere in case."

"Please throw it out the minute I give birth. I swear, I'm going to gain a thousand pounds with all the crap I want in the middle of the night. But…can you get me it?"

While Brittany goes downstairs, Santana shuffles to sit against the headboard. Day, night, she guesses it doesn't make a difference, even if modified bedrest _does_ mean that she can at least not lay down the _entire_ day, and she can go as far as a walk around the corner, so long as she doesn't overextert herself, or do any kind of lifting, and she spends the majority of her day sitting or laying down. She needs to deal with her blood pressure, she needs to eliminate the risk of premature birth. She _needs_ these babies to be healthy, or she'll never forgive herself.

"Popcorn, and a cherry lemonade." Brittany smiles tiredly, holding up the bowl and glass.

"I really love you, you know." Santana sucks in a breath.

"I do know, and I really love you too."

"I mean it though, what I said before the popcorn." She takes the bowl, as Brittany sets the glass beside her. "That I don't want you to cancel your trip. I'm okay. Liam'll be okay. My mom wouldn't pass up the opportunity to stuff me with food and make me watch Julia Roberts movies with her."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure." Santana reaches for her lemonade, and takes a long sip, kissing Brittany with sticky lips. "It's a two hour flight. If I need you, I know you'll get back to me, and we'll FaceTime whenever you're free. Please, Britt, I need you to go."

"Okay…if you want me to, I will."

"Good." Santana puts down the bag of popcorn and snuggles into Brittany's side. "How hard are you going to judge me if I don't get up and brush my teeth again?"

"I won't at all. Go back to sleep, honey. I love you."

"Love you too, Britt."

With Brittany's hands mapping her abdomen, Santana falls asleep again. She knows it'll be hard with her wife gone for three days, she knows she's going to miss falling asleep in her arms after the hard days, knows that she can barely handle not kissing her for a few _hours,_ but she can't have her stay. She can't have her miss something so important. She wants her to go to Atlanta, and be the amazing Dr. Pierce. She wants her babies to know that their mama is something so amazing, and that she's so proud of her. This is the woman she married, this is the woman she loves, and just because Santana is on bedrest, she doesn't want Brittany to give up something to vitally important to her career.

When she wakes up in the morning, Santana is uncomfortable. That's not a new thing for her, she's felt it for weeks, as the twins take up more and more space than her tiny frame has to offer, but as she shimmies into a sitting position in bed, she runs through her own vitals, checking her pulse, gauging her temperature, considering grabbing her blood pressure cuff and making sure it hasn't gotten _worse_ overnight. As she closes her eyes, resting her head on the headboard, she hears the shower running, and she wishes Brittany could stay home. She wishes Brittany could rub her belly and stroke her hair and kiss her face all day, until she's comfortable enough to fall asleep. But she can't, and Santana has to spend three-quarters of her day laid up and trying to rest, when she's more restless than she's ever been before.

She hears Liam's hard feet on the wood floor, and she opens her eyes slowly, watching him press his chin to the edge and stare at her intently. His hair is sleep cowlicked, and his pajama bottoms are on backwards, but the way he rests his little chin on his hands makes her wish she could scoop him up, hug him close, kiss his forehead. She assumes her mom dropped him off earlier, and she is so glad for the sight of him.

"Mommy Noodle, you meti-dating?"

"No." Santana laughs a little. "That's more of a Mama thing, baby. I'm just resting my eyes a little."

"But you just sleeped!"

"You're right." She pats the bed, urging him to try and climb up, even if it's difficult with the low muscle tone in his arm. "But Dr. Roz said I need to get lots and lots of rest for the babies, so I thought that might help them."

"Hi, Brian. Hi, Captain America." Liam manages to get up, and presses his face into Santana's belly.

"Brian and Captain America, huh? So today they're not girls? What happened to Ms. Frizzle and Abby Caddaby?"

"I think maybe we need four." He tells her very seriously. "All the names."

"Four?" Brittany comes out from the bathroom, towel drying her hair. "That's an awful lot of babies to fit inside Mommy's belly."

"Mommy Noodle, I think you make some room?"

"I think my belly is a little full right now, Sir. But remember, we'll add all those names to our list and then we'll choose when we see them, right?"

"Right!" He gives her two thumbs up. "These are the bestest ones!"

"They are very good ones." She smoothes down his hair and thumbs his cheek as he keeps searching her stomach for moving babies with his hands. "Thank you for giving me my morning tummy rub, Liam."

"You really are doing such a nice job." Brittany beams. "Can I help you a little? Maybe I'll rub Mommy's shoulders while you do her belly?"

"Britt, it's okay, you don't have to…"

"I'd love to." Brittany sits down beside her in her robe, and gently squeezes her shoulders. "How about I bring Thai home for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, that sounds really good." Santana nods, resigned to the fact that she can't even _cook._ "Thank you."

"Of course. I made you some chicken salad for lunch too."

"You're honestly too good to me, Brittany."

"You're carrying my children, and you have quite a bit of pressure on you. The least I can do is take care of your meals, okay?"

"Okay. But seriously, I'm lucky to have you."

"And me!" Liam pipes up, and Santana and Brittany share a laugh.

"I think, Sir, that your Mama and I are _both_ very lucky to have you."

Santana takes a shower after Brittany leaves, being careful and quick and the same time, and she takes the stairs slowly once she's dressed, settling in for the day on the couch. After an hour of watching infomercials for things she would never buy, she finally picks up the phone to call her mom. She hasn't even told her she's been put on bedrest, though she'd voiced her concerns that it _would_ happen earlier in the week., and she's sure Brittany talked to her earlier when she dropped Liam off.

" _Good morning, honey._ Maribel answers the phone. _"It's good to hear your voice."_

"Is everything alright, Ma?" Anxiety spikes through Santana, and she grips the couch cushion.

" _Everything's just fine, I'm just glad to hear from you. How are you feeling?"_

"Not…terrible, I guess. Brittany told you?"

" _She did. And she asked me to stay with you and that grandson of mine next week when she goes to Atlanta."_

"Do you mind doing it? I really want her to go, and I know she won't, if she thinks things aren't taken care of here."

" _I'm happy to do it. Maybe we'll get some junk food, watch some movies at night, and get to talk a bit?"_

"We talk every day now, Mama."

" _Oh, I know that."_ Maribel sighs. _"I just mean in person."_

"Sure, whatever you want. Can't do much but sit around and talk. You should probably bring Scrabble too. We'll compete like we used to."

" _I love that idea. Sweetheart, how are you feeling though, truly?"_

"Not awful, and I think that's what's frustrating. I know I could be on my feet at work. I…hate being away from the hospital. I know it's dumb, but I'm a surgeon. I think I was born to have a scalpel in my hand. I know that he….insisted on it, but that never made me love it any less. And now…I feel like part of me is missing, even as I'm filled up with two of the best things that ever happened to me. I guess I just don't really have any hobbies outside of the hospital."

" _I imagine that would be hard. And you have everything done for the nursery?"_

"I mean, I'm not going to sew blankets or anything. There's as much of it done as I can do. Britt will have to finish the rest. I don't know, I guess I'll start a journal for them. Tell them about my life while I'm laid up."

" _I did that with you, you know."_

"You kept a journal?" Santana's jaw drops.

" _I did. For about five months. I thought I'd give it to you during your first pregnancy, but with you having a son before that, I wasn't sure when was appropriate."_

"I'd love to read it, Ma, if you want to share."

" _I'd love to share it with you. When I come by tomorrow, I'll bring it."_

When Santana finally gets off the phone with her mom, she reaches over to the side table and opens the drawer to pull out the notebook she'd bought months ago. It's swirled with stars and constellations on the cover, and the pages are simple and lined. She knows she's not the sentimental type, who will fill the pages of some gorgeous baby journal with photos and milestones—that's something Brittany will give their children, she's certain, since she has an adoption book she made for Liam tucked away, wanting him to have something someday, after the journal her sister kept was lost in the fire. But she'll write. She'll tell them stories, she'll share things about her and Brittany, about Liam, about how she feels with them inside her, and she'll keep her sanity. Closing her eyes just for a moment, she takes her good pen, and begins to write.

 _Dear Babies,_

 _I'm still not quite sure how we got here, but I'm your mom. You Mommy Noodle, maybe, if your big brother teaches you, but either way, I love you both. The story of how you came to be began in an elevator, when half of upper Manhattan was without power. I'd never met your Mama before, even though she'd been at the hospital for a little while before the power went out. My first reaction to her was that she was gorgeous…and my second was to be an utter bitch. You'll learn that about me as you grow, I'm not always the softest and sweetest. But luckily, she loves me anyway._

It becomes hard to stop when Santana begins, and she fills page after page with stories, until her swollen fingers cramp, and her eyelids droop. She found a distraction. She'll do what she has to, and she'll get these babies to term without any further complications, no matter what.


	64. Chapter 64

Santana begins to get used to staying home. Even Brittany's trip isn't _completely_ awful, and she does have a nice time with Liam and her mom. Every day, she gets bigger and bigger, every day, the twins grow stronger and healthier, every day, she breathes a sigh of relief that they're still inside of her. She's going to make it to term. She tells herself that each morning she wakes up, and again before she goes to bed. They're going to be fine. They're going to be _just_ fine.

The day of their baby shower comes. Santana is certain she weighs about a thousand pounds, as she struggles to get into her dress, finally conceding to her need to ask Brittany to help her because she's too nauseated to do it herself. As Brittany zips up the back for her, she kisses her shoulders, the back of her neck, the dimple in the center of her shoulder blades. At the sensation, Santana groans a little. She's strictly prohibited from any kind of sex, but as each day passes, her body craves it more and more.

"Are you alright?"

"Babe, I swear, last night I had an hour long dream about you going down on me. I'm so horny I feel like I could explode. You giving me all those sexy kisses might kill me."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Brittany squeezes her shoulders and backs away. "What can I do?"

"I _wish_ me." Santana rolls her eyes at herself. "Nothing, I'm fine, just whiny today. You know I didn't really want this whole shower thing, but I didn't want to say no to our moms."

"I think they really appreciate that. And at least you'll get to get to get out of the house today, right?"

"Yeah…I know. I'm not being ungrateful, I swear. I'm just torn between being ready for this pregnancy to end, and wanting to keep these kids inside of me as long as possible. I guess I'm just uncomfortable."

"What if I promise you a completely non-sexy and relaxing massage tonight? Maybe I can work some of the kinks out for you."

"Britt." Santana snorts at the unintentional double entendre she uses.

"You know what I mean." Brittany taps her ass and kisses the side of her head. "You look beautiful."

"A very beautiful humpback whale." She rolls her eyes. "Also, you look gorgeous, Mama, and I know you're excited for this, so I'll stop being a downer."

"Hey, be however you want to be, I'm not offended by it. But I think when you see Liam, it _might_ change your mind. I'll go get him."

"I can go in and see him. I think I'm good to walk down the hall, since I'm sure my mom will stick me in a chair all day in the center of the room."

"I'll make sure she doesn't." Brittany smiles softly. "I'm a medical doctor, and _not_ her baby, I have a little pull, I think."

"Let me know how that goes." Santana shakes her head with a smile. "She's impossible."

Brittany puts her hand on Santana's lower back as she waddles down the hall into Liam's room. He's sitting on the floor in his little khaki pants, suspenders, and a button down shirt with a bow tie. His hair is slicked to the side, and he grins so wide at Santana that she feels like she could cry—as if she does much of anything else lately. He scrambles quickly to his feet, and attempts—unsuccessful—to wrap his arms fully around Santana's midsection, and she starts to laugh as he kisses her protruding belly button.

"I wish my belly button did that." He tells her, like he's told her every day since it started protruding. "I'm gonna get babies in my belly too."

"I think two babies is enough for now." Brittany smooths his hair further. "Are you ready for the baby party?"

"Yes, yes, yes! But why are the babies missin' the party?"

"Because the party is to help us get ready for them, Sir." Santana tells him, though she knows Brittany probably has already a dozen times. "And it'll be a fun party for me and you and Mama, right?"

"And everyboney else!"

"And everybody else." Brittany nods, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Mama, can I show—?"

"Later." Brittany stage whispers to Liam, who tugs at the buttons on his shirt. "Promise."

Though they'd walk to the restaurant where their mothers are throwing their shower on an ordinary day, with Santana still on bedrest, they take a cab. Liam sits between them in the backseat, and Santana tugs at the top of her dress, overall just a little uncomfortable with her body. Her breasts ache, her back aches, and she feels like a whale, so it's hard to enjoy the idea of parading herself in front of everyone she knows, and as always, it's hard to imagine them all wanting to touch her belly and invade her personal space.

She's glad that they're the first ones there, just Brittany's parents and her mom there to set up. She finds a seat in the corner, and she leans back and closes her eyes, rubbing her belly and feeling the babies move, until she acclimates herself to the environment. Maybe she's completely insane, maybe she's _always_ been completely insane, but at least being pregnant with twins and on modified bedrest gives her license to do whatever the hell she wants.

Brittany, because she's Brittany, brings Santana a glass of cranberry juice, and Santana sighs happily, kissing Brittany's lips and squeezing her hands. She gets lost in her for just a moment, grateful for the quiet with her wife, even though she knows the party will be big and hectic, and she could stay like that for the whole day. Of course, it doesn't last. The sound of Kurt's voice jars her from her reverie, and Liam skips over, alerting them of his and Dave's arrival.

"Mommy Noodle, Mama, you're doin' too much kissin'! Kurt and Davey and 'Cedes and Sam getted here." He announces, then lowers his voice to a loud whisper. "And they got big presents."

"Oh they do, do they?" Brittany kisses Santana's lips one last time, then offers her a hand up in case she wants to stand. "I guess we should say hello, huh?"

"That's what the rules is, Mama!" Liam giggles. "I did, now I'm gonna help Grampa!"

Seeing her father-in-law setting up the camera, Santana ruffles Liam's hair and sends him over. She leans into Brittany's side, feeling a little agitated and uncomfortable, but softening enough under her touch. They go into the entryway, and Maribel is regaling Santana's friends with her own pregnancy stories. She sighs into Brittany's side, happy she and her mother finally have this relationship, and she lets Mercedes uncharacteristically hug her, and talk about her nephews, since she's convinced Santana is pregnant with boys.

"Stop calling them nephews, I told you I don't have a feeling either way." Santana rolls her eyes. "And since when did you become the baby expert?"

"I don't need to be an expert to have a gut feeling. It feels like it's boys."

"Well Brittany thinks they're girls so…I trust her gut feeling more than yours."

"You should have just found out." Kurt chimes in. "Is it too late for that?"

"No way, man, they can find out any time." Sam tells him, puffing out his chest like some kind of baby expert. "My Ma found out with my sister right before she was born, because Dad couldn't wait anymore."

"Thanks, you guys, for your interest—" Brittany cuts in, and Santana is grateful, because she's done with this conversation. "But we only have a few weeks to go. We'll know soon enough. Honey, Shelby and Holly are here, should we go say hi?"

"Oh, yeah…yeah, let's."

The shower is beautiful, even Santana can admit that, though she'd been so stressed about it. Brittany makes sure she doesn't get too overwhelmed by the sheer number of people—it seems like their mothers invited everyone at the hospital, from Sylvester down to Heyward—and Santana makes sure it's known that this is just as much Brittany's shower as her own. That's important to her, the most important thing, she thinks, making sure that Brittany feels good. She knows she loves these kind of things, the _special_ things, and never in a million years would she want anyone to make it less special for her.

When the party begins to wind down, Santana has sunken down onto a sofa in the foyer to say her goodbyes, and she's ready to go to sleep. She's saying goodbye to Heyward, and thanking her for coming—despite their issue earlier in the year with the kids, she still is the best intern—when she hears the sound of shrieking and sobbing. When she realizes the sound is coming from her son, she jumps up so quickly she gets lightheaded, and Heyward helps steady her on her feet before they rush into the other room, finding Liam splayed out on the floor, and Brittany crouched over his shaking form.

"Britt." Santana gasps, grasping at her belly. "What's the matter?"

"Just a fall." Brittany looks at Santana. "He's okay…I think."

"Let me take a look." Someone offers, and Santana is pretty sure it's Shelby, but she's too distracted by a wave of nausea.

"Sit, Santana." Tina brings a chair over, and she follows orders, sinking down and doubling over as she listens to her son wail, with little she can do to stop it.

"It's not broken. You can lift him, Brittany." Shelby announces, and Brittany cradles Liam in her arms, giving Santana a glimpse of his bad arm, curled into his body. "Do you want me to call an ambulance and bring him to Pres?"

"I…no. I can drive him, it's okay. If it's not broken…you…helped with the surgery so…"

"I'll come in the car with you, we'll get some x-rays done just to make sure."

"Okay. Okay. Where's Santana?"

"I'm right here." Santana realizes how winded she feels, so winded that it's hard to speak. Another wave of nausea seizes her, and she bows her head down.

"You might want that ambulance after all." Santana hears Holly whisper, though she may be speaking at a normal volume.

"Oh my God." Brittany moves quickly to Santana's side, screaming Liam in her arms. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I…I think I just feel sick from being afraid when I heard him screaming. Ugh…fuck, ow. It'll pass."

"Heyward, call for an ambulance. Mom? Take Liam." Brittany passes Liam to her mother and sinks down before Santana. "Santana, I don't want to scare you, okay? We're going to go to the hospital and get you checked out. It might just be your anxiety, but I want to make sure you and the babies are safe."

"Oh…" Santana looks off in a daze. "Yeah…okay. We can do that."

It's all a blur for Santana when the ambulance comes. Liam is still screaming as he's strapped down, and she lays on another gurney beside him, urging Brittany to calm him, promising her that she's fine, though she still feels like she'll either vomit or float away. She's not in a lot of pain, and that's what surprises her. Besides the occasional ache in her belly, she's okay, and she doesn't think she's having contractions. She just feels…weird, and she closes her eyes, thinking maybe rest will be the best thing for her.

Half the shower is at the hospital when she gets there, and she begs Brittany to go with Liam for the x-rays, while her mother and Mercedes stay with her as she's wheeled down to obstetrics, and Roz comes to meet her. She knows she's was supposed to be relaxing, she knows her blood pressure is an issue, and suddenly, a wave of heavy guilt washes over her for all the complaining she's done.

"I'm going to examine you now, Santana. Your blood pressure is really high, and either way, I'm admitting you until it stabilizes."

Santana just nods, giving Roz permission to do whatever it is she needs to do. Mercedes squeezes her hand, like the good friend she is, and Santana swallows hard, wishing her wife was with her, hoping her son is okay, hoping that their _babies_ are okay in there.

"You're in very early labor." Roz tells her after the sonogram and exam, and Santana grasps at the edges of the bed to sit up. "I'd like to see you go at least another week before you deliver, so I'm going to start you on some Terbutaline to stop the labor, and keep you here until you give birth."

"Okay." Santana mumbles, then starts to cry, big, heavy sobs that hurt her chest and make her belly rock. "Okay."

"I'll go get Brittany." Maribel tells Santana.

"But Liam."

"I'll go get Brittany." She repeats. "Whitney is there, Pierce is there, I'll be there."

Santana throws up while she waits for Brittany to come in, and for the nurse to start her IV drop. Whether it's from anxiety or labor, she's not sure, but she knows she's glad she has Mercedes nearby, she knows her best friend is a good man in a storm, and this _certainly_ feels like the biggest storm she's ever weathered.

She sobs into Brittany's chest when she comes into the room, frantically telling her what's going on, while asking about Liam all at once. Liam is fine. The intense bout of crying was probably precipitated by the fall on his delicate nerves in his arm, and nothing is broken, nothing is sprained. He's resting with his grandparents, but Santana still cries harder, the idea that he could have been hurt just really…impacting her, as she worries about her other two babies. She knows, rationally, that they'd be okay if she delivered them today, she does, truly, but still, she feels so gripped by fear, it's hard to even function.

"I'm here, Santana." Brittany strokes her hair. "I'm here, and you're going to be okay."

"Fuck. I…I should have felt it coming. I should have gone full bedrest. I should have—"

"Sweetheart, you followed Roz's orders. It happens. We knew there was a risk of you going early with twins. But you're on the Terbutaline, you're going to rest here, Roz is going to do whatever it takes to make sure you and our babies are okay. You're okay. I promise you, you're okay."

"You don't sound like I'm okay." Santana shakes her head at Brittany's tears. "I'm so scared."

"I know. I know. I'm so scared too, I'm sorry I'm making you feel worse. It's all going to be okay. I swear to you, I'm a goddamn head in this hospital, and if anyone is going to be just fine, it's my wife."

"Okay, okay." Santana breathes just a little easier at Brittany's forceful insistence. "Okay."

Roz ends up ordering a sedative for Santana, on top of the Terbutaline, and she falls asleep for a little while, settled in her private room. When she wakes up again, she feels a warm little body at her side. She opens her eyes, and there's her sleeping son, curled into her, little hand grasping the dress she still wears, and a hospital bracelet on his wrist. His suspenders are off, and his button down shirt is open, revealing a _Super Big Brother_ shirt, presumably the surprise he wanted to show Santana in the morning.

"Hi." Brittany murmurs. "He wanted to see you, I hope it's okay I brought him up here."

"Yeah…uh huh, of course. I want to see him too. How's his arm?"

"He's okay, they gave him some Tylenol, and discharged him. Your mom is going to take him home with her tonight. I'm going to stay."

"Britt…you don't have to stay. Hospital beds suck, and you have work in the—"

"I took leave. I can't work while you're in here and we're waiting. I don't want to be in surgery when you go into labor."

"Brittany…"

"Santana. This is what I want to do, okay? Just please don't make me feel like I shouldn't do it, and you're fine alone. I want to be here, that's all."

"Okay." Santana nods, conceding to Brittany's wishes. "Thank you."

"How are you feeling?" Brittany sets down the journal she's reading. "A little calmer?"

"I think so. I just…want some normal clothes, I don't know. This dress still feels too small, and I don't want to sit here in a hospital gown."

"I didn't want to leave you while you were sleeping, but I was going to go home at some point and pack you some things. Is there anything specifically you want?"

"Just like…the three things that still fit me. My iPad, I guess, and my notebook? I guess?" Santana takes a breath. "I don't know, I just…don't."

"Honey…"

"I'm sorry. I'm just…whatever." Santana shakes her head. "Way to have the most dramatic baby shower exit ever. I feel like an idiot, on top of the fact that I'm in a total panic about the twins being okay. I just…I'm over this feeling."

"What feeling?"

"Fucking _helplessness._ I'm a doctor, I save lives, and not being able to control what happens to _myself_ and my kids is the worst feeling in the world." Tears choke Santana's throat again and she sputters, grasping at her belly. "I did every goddamn thing Roz told me to do."

"I know." Brittany wraps her arms around her again. "But you know as well as I do that sometimes it doesn't matter."

"That's not really comforting." Santana snaps a little, then feels bad. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. I just don't know what there is for me to say to you." Brittany murmurs. "I'm sorry. If there was something I could do, you know I would do it for you in a second."

"I do know. I always know that you'd do anything for me." She sniffles. "And I still don't know why you're like this."

"Because I love you, and I love our babies, and I feel helpless too."

"Tonight, once you come back from home, and Liam is with my mom, will you lay with me?"

"Of course I will. Do you want me to stroke your hair until then? Maybe help you fall back to sleep?"

"Please, that would be really, really good."


	65. Chapter 65

After thirty-nine hours in the hospital, it becomes apparent that the Terbutaline is doing very little to stop Santana's labor. When Roz does her exam, and tells Santana that her blood pressure has continued to rise, and the safest bet is to do a c-section to get the twins out safely, Santana cries into Brittany's neck for twenty-minutes, then pulls herself together and comes to the realization that three days before Thanksgiving, she's going to give birth to the babies she's carried in her womb for as long as she possibly could. It's jarring, it's terrifying, but there's nothing she can do but go with it. There's nothing she can do but hope beyond everything else that they'll be strong enough, that they'll be okay.

She calls her mom before they take her into surgery, and she knows that Brittany does the same. She's a surgeon, so as she signs the consent forms, she runs through every fucking thing in her head that can possibly go wrong, and she holds her belly, just wanting them to be okay, just wanting the opportunity to hold them, to know them, to love them, and when she has a single moment alone with Brittany, she grabs her hands, and pulls her close.

"You know what I want, right? If you ever have to make the choice?"

"Santana…please." Tears fill Brittany's eyes, but Santana shakes her head.

"Brittany. Tell me. Please tell me you know."

"I…if it ever came down to it…I'd save them for you, okay? Do you know how hard it is for me to even say those words, even knowing that I won't ever have to make that choice? You have Roz, you have Holly for the twins, you have Sue Sylvester in the operating room with you, because you're one of her own."

"I know that. Goddamnit Brittany, I know that, but that doesn't mean shit and you know it." Santana snaps, her own anxiety just proving to be too much. She doesn't want to argue with Brittany right now, but sometimes everything just feels like too much, and this is one of those times where she can't even control herself. "I need to go in there knowing that you said that."

"You're the great love of my life, Santana, and I'd do anything you asked. But it destroys me to even think about it." Brittany pulls her close and kisses her lips, hard, and full of _everything_ Santana can't bring herself to say. "I love you beyond words. I love you beyond whatever I imagined possible, and in a few hours, you're going to be okay."

"I love you too." Santana drops her forehead into Brittany's, and holds the side of her face. "I'm so glad you'll be in there with me."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world. You, and me, and our babies, okay? Everything else in the room is just extra. Except the scrub nurse. I made sure you have Emma."

"Oh, thank God." Santana laughs a little through he tears. "Then we know I won't die from infection or sepsis. I'd eat off Emma's OR floors."

"I know." Brittany smiles cautiously, kissing her again. "Let's go have some babies."

Because Santana is a surgeon, even as a patient, she inspects the operating room carefully as she's wheeled inside. She knows that Brittany is doing the same, and she watches her, all scrubbed in with her Wonder Woman cap on her head, as she surveys the room, checking the instruments, talking to Emma, making sure that everything is just as it should be. The weight of Santana's belly feels heavier than normal as she closes her eyes, wishing it were Tina giving her a local anesthetic and a sedative, but glad that she has Roz and Holly and Sylvester, at least. The best of the best. That's what matters for her babies. She'd have killed to have Holly in the room, but she didn't have to. Brittany took care of it, Brittany always takes care of everything.

Anxiety floods her chest as the epidural begins to take effect, and though she wishes she could watch Roz cut into her, assure that she's doing it exactly right—despite her own extremely limited knowledge of Caesarean sections—the curtain goes up between her and her belly. She hopes Brittany chooses to watch, she hopes Brittany is making sure she's doing it right, but Santana can do nothing else but close her eyes, squeeze her wife's hands, and just pray to anyone who is listening that all of them will come out of this alright.

"Okay, Dr. Lopez." Emma tells her. "We're starting now."

"Don't worry, kid." Holly assures her. "I'm right on hand to check on those babies of yours."

"Just breathe, Santana." Roz instructs, and maybe it makes her a horrible human being, but when people tell her to breathe, she always just wants to hold her breath, stop breathing forever, then punch the instruction giver in the face.

"You and I, sweetheart." Brittany whispers. "Just you and I."

It feels like an absolute eternity, waiting for anything to happen. Rationally, Santana knows that Roz is cutting through skin and muscle and tissue—which will probably never be the same again, and she has no idea why any human being in their right mind would opt for an elective c-section…though, she can't exactly talk, given her own series of elective surgeries—but irrationally, she's certain she's not hearing any cries because there will be no cries. Irrationally, she's convinced of the worst, and though she tries not to, she sobs on the operating table, until her throat and chest and head hurt, and she just wants to go to sleep forever.

"I can see one, Santana." Brittany murmurs. "She's about to take the first one out."

"Are they…"

"Small, but…I see movement."

"Okay. Okay." She breathes through the insufferable weight of her imaginary monster. "Okay."

"Here's baby number one." Roz announces, holding up the most beautiful newborn baby boy Santana has _ever_ seen, and she weeps, holding Brittany's hand, until she feels something wash over her, and her monitor sounds loudly and angrily. "Your blood pressure is spiking a little more, let's get baby number two out and close you up."

"Feel a little nauseous." Santana mumbles, then lets her eyes drift close, overcome by too many sensations, overcome by…something she can't control.

When she wakes up again, Brittany is still at her side, and there's an oxygen mask on her face. It takes Santana a moment to realize that she'd gone unconscious, and the thought of it causes her to panic and try to sit up. The numbing below her waist doesn't allow it, and Brittany, face wet with tears holds her shoulders.

"It's okay. You're okay. And baby A is right over there…baby B, he…Holly took him into surgery. Roz is almost done closing you up now. And…" Brittany just continues to spew words, and Santana panics. Brittany isn't like this, she's _never_ like this, and hearing the sheer terror in her voice is too much to handle.

"What's wrong with him? Can you go? Please, Britt. Go find out."

"I'm not allowed to go." Brittany shakes her head. "I…I tried, even though I didn't want to leave you. He has a brain bleed, and Holly says it's going to be fine, but they took him out of here so fast, I hardly got to see him. I don't…"

"Oh God. Oh my God, why? What did I do to him?" Santana gasps, and starts choking on bile in her throat.

"No, it wasn't anything you did. She said it happens sometimes. They're just…they're really small, but Roz said we can hold the first one when you're finished."

"Please Britt, go hold him now. Please. I need you to. He's probably so scared without his…his brother. Just…please."

"Okay. Okay." Brittany nods, and Santana closes her eyes when she kisses her forehead, completely numb everywhere at the idea that something is wrong with her son. Two days ago, she was worried about whether they'd be boys or girls. Today, she can't even process that they're boys, only that they're small, and one is having _brain surgery_ at a few minutes old. It makes her sick, it fills her with self-loathing, it makes her just feel all around _awful_ about herself as a human being.

"I'm all done closing you up, Santana. You did great, you'll heal really easily."

Santana just nods. She kind of wants to tell Roz that she doesn't give a _fuck_ about how she'll heal. She wants to tell her she wishes she was dead, if it meant her newborn baby wasn't having brain surgery. If it meant Brittany could hold her other baby without worrying that he could get sick too. If it meant they were all okay, and she wasn't here. She knows she's supposed to be past this, but sometimes it rears its ugly head, and Roz talking about how easily she's going to heal just sets off a tailspin of anger that Santana isn't sure she'll be able to control.

"Santana." Brittany whispers, holding the smallest baby she's ever seen in her arms, still completely naked. "Look, little guy, I found your Mommy."

At Brittany's words, and the sight of that perfect little child, Santana absolutely melts. For just a moment in time, the rest fades away, and she looks into her son's eyes for the first time. It's a lot to handle, and she starts to sob again—as if she's done anything but for two days.

"I think this one was the kicker." Brittany tells her, pointing out the way his tiny legs move.

"Max." Santana swallows hard, remembering the boy name they'd tossed around one night for the baby who constantly kicked her underneath her ribs. "Do you still want to call him Max?"

"If that's what you want, I love Max." Brittany gently helps Santana undo her gown, and settles him on her bare chest. "There you go."

"I…can you…?"

"I am." She nods. "I have to. Even if they won't let me anywhere near him. But I just…had to give you Max first."

"Uh huh." Santana nods frantically. "I'm sorry…"

"Please don't be sorry." Brittany shakes her head, tears falling as she kisses Santana again, then Max. "He's going to be okay. It's Holly. He's going to be okay."

After Brittany leaves to go tend to their other son, Santana keeps a tight grasp on Max. Even as she's wheeled into recovery, and then into her room, she refuses to let him go. She's scared, so scared that if she does, they're going to take him away from her, they're going to say something is wrong with him, and that he needs surgery too. She knows herself, she knows that she can't handle both of her babies in surgery at the same time. She knows that she'll absolutely explode if she can't hold this tiny boy close to her heart, and feel his heart beating so quickly against her own. So she doesn't let him go. She doesn't let a nurse put a diaper on him. She doesn't let them touch him, because she needs him, and he's her baby, so he needs her too.

It breaks her heart a little more when she nurses for the first time without Brittany. Everything she'd envisioned, everything they'd planned has become the terrifying opposite. And while Max nurses, so hungry, she keeps looking at the door, keeps waiting for Brittany to come back with some kind of news about the baby she's never even been able to see.

"Save some, my love." Santana chokes. "Your brother is going to be hungry when he comes out of surgery too. You already know him, huh? But I've been waiting so long to meet you both. I know I fucked up and had you too early, but I swear, you can ask your big brother Liam, I'm usually a lot less of a mess when it comes to kids than I am where it comes to myself. I'm going to keep you guys really safe, and even more than me…your Mama…she's just something else."

He nurses for a long while, and then he falls asleep on her. She still won't let him go, even as she manages to get his diaper on him while he's asleep. She just…needs him close to her. She needs to know he's okay.

It feels like a lifetime before Brittany comes back, and when she does, Santana feels like she's aged as much. Santana wonders if she looks like that too. She wonders if the lack of sleep, of the stress, of everything has turned her grey and haggard—though Brittany doesn't, she just looks overwhelmed and worn down. There's a low ache in her belly, a _missing,_ and when Brittany sits beside her, she feels tears spring to her eyes again.

"He's alright. He's out of surgery now, and Holly fixed the bleed. He's going to be okay. She promised me he's going to be okay."

"Can I see him? Can Max see him?"

"You can, through the glass for now. I'm not sure about Max…"

"It's his brother, Brittany. His _twin._ They can't keep him away."

"Santana, we both know they can. We've both…we've done it."

"Why do you have to be so goddamn rational right now." Santana hisses, though she doesn't mean to take it out on her. "I want to see our baby, I want him to be okay."

"Honey…I'm trying…"

"I don't want to give Max to them in case they take him away, but I can't take him with me, and…fuck. Fuck, Brittany, just fuck." Santana's sobs choke her, and she just keeps holding Max, trying to keep him safe from _everything._

"Hey. Come here, come here, sweetheart." Brittany sinks down on the bed and gathers her into her arms. "Let's go see him. We'll take Max, and we'll look through the glass, okay?"

"Did you get to hold him?" Santana sniffles.

"Holly said in the morning. I promise you, Santana, she said he's going to be okay. She'll have a better idea of any challenges he might—"

"You just said he was okay."

"Santana."

"Don't _Santana_ me, Brittany. Is he okay, or is something wrong? Those answers both can't be yes."

"But they can. He had brain surgery, but he's alive, and his vitals are good. He's moving, he's breathing, so yeah, he's going to be okay, no matter what else comes up."

"How can you just be so—" Santana clenches her fists at her side, frustrated, until she remembers Max on her chest and tries to calm herself down enough so she doesn't wake him up. "Take me to see him. I need to see our son."

"I'll get you a wheelchair."

While Brittany is gone from the room, Santana becomes overwhelmed by her grief and her guilt. She shouldn't have protested the bed rest so much. She shouldn't have jumped up at their shower. She should have taken it easy in the first months of her pregnancy instead of running around. She shouldn't have…she should have…she shouldn't have…she should have…they just play over and over again in her head, in agonizing cacophony with the pain that radiates through her whole body from her surgical incisions.

She's angry. She's so angry that this is happening to their baby. She's never even seen their son, because she lost consciousness in her own surgery, and he's already had _his_ in the hours since he's been born. This is her. This is the curse of evil that's somehow cast over her, no matter how hard she tries to do right. It's her plight in life, and now, the worst thing of all has happened, she's passed that down to her son.

"We're going to see your brother, Max. We're going to see him, and…" Santana's tears fall on his face. "It's going to be okay. Mama's gonna make it okay for us."

When Brittany comes back with the wheelchair and a nurse helps Santana into it with Max, Santana doesn't say a word. She's distraught, she's exhausted, and she just wants to go back to a world where she felt like she was doing everything right and it was working. No, if she's wanting, she doesn't care about herself at all. She just wants the five-pound one-ounce boy in her arms, and his four-pound nine-ounce brother who just survived brain surgery to be okay. She wants them to meet Liam, she wants to take them home and swaddle them and love them. She wants everything to be normal, and she hates herself that it isn't.

For the entire way Brittany pushes her to the NICU, a path she's walked hundreds upon hundreds of times, Santana holds her breath. They pass her office, and she shudders. They pass her patient rooms, she shivers. She's spent too much time in this damn hospital to not be able to help her son, and part of her wants to scrub in and fix him her damn self. She's never had a god-complex before, but right now, as she waits to see her sick baby, she damn sure feels like she's the only one who can do anything right.

"Here he is." Brittany murmurs, when they get to the NICU, and Max's identical twin is encased in a plexiglass cradle. "There's our little fighter."

"Can you please stop sounding so calm? It's really freaking me out, and I don't like it." Santana snaps.

"Santana. I'm going to continue to sound calm, because I have no other choice." Brittany doesn't raise her voice, but Santana can tell she's on edge. And frankly, for the first time, she can't even bring herself to care.

Santana doesn't say anything else, she just stares at the beautiful little boy in the incubator, a tube down his throat, and his head bandaged. She's bandaged and intubated children more times than she could count, but seeing the child she gave birth to, hers and Brittany's child so sickly makes _her_ feel sick.

"Do you want me to take Max, Santana?"

"Yeah." She nods, handing him over to Brittany carefully. "Don't let anyone take him."

"I won't. I promise."

Despite the pain, Santana stands so she can take in his full form. He's not the smallest baby she's ever seen, a product of her career, but he's so vulnerable, so helpless, and she wishes she could put Max in with him. Wishes he could bring him the strength that she's incapable of giving him. They're twins. They're supposed to be the same, and God, she wishes they were both as healthy as Max.

"I want to name him. I need this to not say Baby Lopez." Santana points to the tag on his incubator scornfully. "It's supposed to be Pierce-Lopez, and I need him to have a first name."

"Yeah, let's do that." Brittany nods, cradling Max to her chest. "And I'll take care of getting it changed on there."

"Oliver. You wanted to name one of them after Liv, and he's the one who should be named after your sister so he has…whatever kind of guardian something or whatever. Tell them his name is Oliver Pierce-Lopez, and his crib needs to say that."


	66. Chapter 66

As exhausted as she is, Santana has a rough time falling asleep. Before she can even attempt it, she makes certain with every nurse, with Roz, with Holly, with Shelby, and most importantly, with Brittany, that Max isn't taken away from them. Once she's sure of it, she falls into a fitful sleep, worried sick about Oliver, worried that something will happen to Max while she's out.

When Santana wakes up, it's morning, and she's an anxious wreck again. She worries about the babies, yes, but also, she feels a deep sense of panic about Liam. Her eldest son saw her go into the hospital, and he hasn't seen her since, and the idea of inflicting trauma on him gets her so beside herself that she pushes herself up from the bed and screams out in pain radiating from her caesarean incision.

"Santana." Brittany jumps from her seat, holding Max. "Are you okay?"

"Who has Liam? Where is he?"

"He's at home. My parents have him, your mom has been in the waiting room all night. I couldn't get her to go home."

"He's okay." Santana breathes, unable to even process her mom sleeping in a hospital waiting room, though she knows she's done it before when she knew her husband was having an affair. "Have you talked to him?"

"I did, after you fell asleep. He knows about Max and Oliver, and he told me he misses you and then a lot, and that he can't wait to hug them outside of your belly."

"God I can't wait for that too." Santana chokes on a sob. "I just want Oliver to be okay, so all of our boys can be together."

"He's doing really well. Holly said we can see him whenever you're awake, and if you're up for it, you can try to nurse him."

"I haven't even nursed Max yet this morning. I'm in so over my damn head right now."

"You nursed him half-asleep three times last night. He's okay right now, you're doing fine."

"Shit, I don't even remember that." Santana takes a breath. "Okay. Okay. I want to see Oliver. Can Max come?"

"Holly says he's stable enough that we can have Max in there with us. The surgery was primarily to check for other hemorrhaging and to put a shunt in, and that was the only bleed, so he seems like he's doing really well. She thinks he'll only be in the NICU for a few days, and then we'll go from there, and hopefully take him home."

"And Max?"

"You and Max should be able to come home tomorrow."

"And he won't be able to come back." Santana says out loud, though they both know the rules, and she knows Holly is probably bending them a _lot_ by allowing Max to see his brother at all. "Fuck, I hate this."

"I know. I hate it just as much."

Santana doesn't say much else. She doesn't know why she feels so frustrated with her wife, she doesn't know why she feels so frustrated with Holly, who's doing everything she can and more. But she's tired and in pain and scared, and all of that amplifies her frustration a hundredfold. She refuses the wheelchair Brittany offers, but she lets Brittany carry Max as they walk down the hall and into the NICU, where her poor little boy lays with his head bandaged. The nurse is nice enough when she lifts him out and into Santana's arms, but Santana can't even be bothered to remember her name. She just doesn't care about _anything_ right now, and until Oliver opens his eyes and looks up at her, she feels like she could hit someone.

"Hello there, Oliver." She whispers. "Mommy's here, Mama's here, Max is here. You're not alone anymore."

"They really look so much like you." Brittany murmurs.

"Their eyes are grey. I wonder if they'll stay that way." Santana strokes the bottom of Oliver's forehead, under the bandage. "You two are the most beautiful things I've ever done. I can't take credit for your brother Liam, but he's the most beautiful gift I was ever given."

For a long while, Santana just stares at him. He's alert and breathing on his own, and as a doctor, she knows those are the best signs. As a mother though, the bandage unsettles her, and she wishes she could remove it and kiss the crown of his head, like she's already done so many time to Max. Instead though, when he seems to be ready, she lowers her hospital gown, and she guides him so gently to her breast, letting him feel his way around until he latches on and begins to nurse.

"Good boy, such a good boy." Santana begins to cry again. "You've got it, just like that. Britt…can I have Max?"

"Of course." Brittany lowers Max down into Santana's other arm, and steps back. Santana feels her eyes on them the whole time, as Max and Oliver's legs tangle together as they were in one of the ultrasound photos they have, and Max nurses on Santana's other side. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Santana. You and our twins. They're okay. You're okay."

"Britt." Santana looks at her face, tears welling up in deep blue eyes. "I'm sorry I—"

"I know." Brittany nods. "It's been a really hard week. We'll get past it."

Softly, Santana hums _You Are My Sunshine_ to the babies, while Brittany just stands and watches them nurse. Finally, Santana offers up her seat to Brittany, struggling a little to maneuver both babies and Oliver's wires. Then, she sinks into another chair, further from Oliver's incubator, and she stares intently at her wife with their newborn twins.

"You know, Mr. Oliver, you were named for your Aunt Olivia, who was bigger than life. You'll be that way too. And you, Max, were named for the King of the Wild Things, from Mommy's favorite book. Your grandma used to read it to her five times every night, and that's something really special to her. We'll see if you'll be the King of the Wild Things too, although the way you were kicking when you were inside, I'd say you're right there. I'm so, so happy you're both here, and you look more like Mommy than I ever could have thought possible."

Something about seeing Brittany talk to them makes Santana's heart swell, and just for a moment, her anxiety melts away, and a sense of calm washes over her. Even with how small Max is, even with the bandaging on Oliver's head, for a moment in time, everything feels normal, everything feels like it's going to be just fine.

It's short lived though, and when Oliver starts to cry, the first time Santana's _heard_ him, her heart aches. Realistically, Santana knows that you feel no pain in the brain, but as a mother, that cry sends a jolt through her system. It makes her shudder, even as Brittany soothes him, even as the nurse comes in to check his vitals, Santana doesn't calm down. She _needs_ to do something, she needs to fix what she hurt, she needs to give their son whatever he needs, because she's the one who made this happen.

After both babies fall asleep together, it proves nearly impossible for Santana to watch Brittany put Oliver down. Rationally, she knows it has to happen, she's forced parents to do the same thing more times than she can count, but she sobs uncontrollably and nearly collapses to the floor when she has to make the choice between sitting at Oliver's bedside and returning to her room with Max to sleep. That's not even to mention how desperate she is to see her Liam, to kiss him and promise him she's okay, but her three boys are in three different directions, and no way she can go is the right way, and every way makes her ache in a way she never could have imagined possible.

She finally succumbs to her need for more sleep, but as a way to assuage her guilt for feeling like she's chosen one son, she asks Brittany to stay with Oliver, and she puts Max down in the bassinet at her bedside. Holding him while she sleeps feels like a betrayal, and she's not sure she'll ever move past this feeling of not being a good enough mother. She's not sure she'll ever go back to the way she felt a few days ago, when she was just Liam's Mommy Noodle, and she could see in her eyes that she was some kind of superhero to him.

When she wakes up again, her mother is at her bedside, and Max is in her arms. Santana's chest throbs with some feeling she's never felt before. Her mother has never been able to hold a newborn grandchild, never been able to kiss a tiny head, and learn a tiny face when they're just hours into their lives. The sight of Maribel with Max makes Santana smile, just for a moment, and she doesn't give away that she's awake, doesn't let herself stop pretending that her wife will walk into the room in an instant with Max, and trade babies with her mother, letting her meet and cradle his identical twin.

"Hi Ma." Santana swallows hard, watching how she looks quickly up from Max.

"Hi, honey. Brittany let me come in. She thought it might be good if someone were sitting with you and with Max."

"She's with Oliver?"

"She is. She told me she was going to come in and get you before Holly wanted to give his evening update."

"I was mad I missed the one after his surgery." Santana shrugs a little, curling in on herself. "Did you get to see him."

"I did, just for a few minutes."

"I guess they're only bending the rules that directly involve us. Grandparents get fifteen minutes."

"That's what Brittany said. Though I'm glad _you_ have a little more freedom with him than you would if you weren't in your own hospital. Santana, sweetheart, they're both such beautiful boys."

"I made them in my body, Ma." Santana sucks in a breath, trying not to cry again. "And I tried so hard to keep them in long enough that they'd both be okay. My _baby_ had brain surgery, he…he—"

"Oh, Santana." Maribel carefully settles Max on her shoulder, and wraps her other arm around Santana. "He's okay, I know it's terrifying, but he's doing so well. He'll be out in just a few days."

"Why doesn't anyone understand?" She gasps through her sobs. "My job was to keep them safe. Not one of them, both of them. I'm a _surgeon,_ and I save other peoples babies all the time, but when it came to my own son…he's not okay because of me. He's okay because of Holly. And Brittany is keeping everything together while I fucking fall apart over and over again. And I miss Liam, and I just want to take Max and Oliver home together like we planned. When will I ever grow out of fucking everything up?"

"You can't _blame_ yourself for this, Santana. You followed Dr. Washington's orders, and you had permission to be at your shower the other day. I don't know why it happened, but that wasn't your fault."

"I feel like I'm torn in so many directions right now. All I want to do is _sleep_ until everything is better, but I need to take care of Max, I need to sit with Oliver, I need to see Liam, and I can't even remember if I've kissed my wife since my damn c-section. How can I even begin to balance this? I didn't plan to get pregnant with twins, and I didn't plan for _this._ God, I'm a horrible fucking mother."

"You're not—"

"Ma, I'm sitting here because I don't know what the fuck to do for one single person in my family, I've been a bitch to my wife, and she's the one constantly holding everything together."

"Santana." Maribel's voice is firm. "I'm not privy to everything, or even many things in your relationship with your wife, but I've seen you hold her together when things are hard too. I saw you step up after Liam's surgery and help care for both of them when they needed you. You were never a fragile child, you dealt with things no child should, and you've dealt with things no adult should. But you are strong, and you'll be strong for Brittany and sons. You had major surgery with complications one day ago, it would be unnatural if you weren't having a tough time."

"Well maybe I'm sick of having a tough time, and everyone just excusing it on the grounds of my father emotionally abusing me. I want to be the one who can handle things on my own for once. I should be at Oliver's bedside, and I should be fighting for the best care for him, even though I'm sure he has it with the doctors I would have picked myself. I shouldn't be feeling like I want to hide under the sheets and come out only when it gets easier again. I don't even know if they've given me my anxiety medication, because I haven't even looked at my charts. It's too hard, and I don't want to do it."

"I love you, Santana, you're my baby girl, and I wish more than anything that I could tell you to do that. But you know as well as I do that as a mother, you don't get a choice but to do the hard things. I failed you in so many ways, but I won't fail you now by protecting you from them. Your family needs you to rest enough that you're well, and they need you to fight with them."

"I want to see Liam. No, I _need_ to see Liam. I need him to hold Max, and I need to tell him myself that I'm okay, and that his brothers are okay. And before that, I need to go nurse my other baby. Please, Mama. Help me learn how to do this. I became a mother to such an easy little boy earlier this year, and now I need to learn how to be one when it's not easy."

"I may not be your best teacher, Santana."

"Well you're all I have. You're my mom. Help me be a good mom. Please, Ma, please don't let me fail them."

"I'll do all I can." Maribel nods. "Whatever you need from me, I'll do my best."

Trusting her mom with Max, Santana shuffles her way down the hall to the NICU. For a fleeting second, she wonders if this will make her a better doctor, she wonders if knowing that it feels like to be the mother of a NICU patient will make her less anxious to just _do_ surgery, and to listen more to the other mothers, the other fathers. She feels like now she knows something new. She feels like this is something she could have never learned in medical school, and though she wishes she never _had_ to learn it, she thinks maybe, somehow, it makes her a better _human._

When she approaches where Oliver's incubator is, Santana pauses when she sees Brittany in the chair with him. There's always been something so _natural_ about Brittany's motherhood, and she thinks back to the first time she saw he carrying a sleeping Liam down the hall of the hospital. She thinks of the time she insisted on Brittany helping her with the conjoined twins, and the way she hesitated before she left Liam with her. She thinks of the way she smooths his cream on so gently every night, she thinks of how she knows exactly how to dry his tears, and kiss his forehead. She's all of that with Oliver too, in that moment, and Santana sucks in a breath. She might have her medical license revoked for even _thinking_ it, but she can feel that there's some sort of healing in Brittany's gentle strokes of Oliver's face, in the soft hum of her voice as she speaks to him.

"Is he awake?" Santana asks, her voice more shaky than she means it to be.

"He's not, but I wanted to hold him. Here, honey, come sit."

"I'm okay standing." She shakes her head. "It hurts, but we both know it'll be better for me if I try to move some more today. I'll stand until it's time to nurse him, or pump, or whatever. My boobs are really full."

"I bet if you sit down with him, he'll smell you and wake up. Come here." Brittany stands, holding Oliver's wires in one hand, and him in the other. "He missed you."

"I'm sorry." Santana isn't sure if it's a snap, or just completely defeated. "I had to sleep."

"I know that, and so does he. I was just…" Brittany shakes her head and trails off. "Go see Mommy, my sweet baby boy, it's time to wake up and eat now."

"Why are you like this, Britt?" Santana accepts Oliver in her arms, and is grateful for the fact that she managed to put on her maternity pajamas, and can nurse easier with buttons than the hospital gown. "You're just so…so much better at knowing how to do this then I am."

"You're doing fine, Santana. Look, he's nudging you a little. He smells you, and he senses you."

"I don't mean the nursing. I mean…I keep getting mad at you for being calm. I know it's really…not right of me, but I can't be calm, and I think I'm angry with you because I'm jealous of it. I want to scream and yell and throw myself on the floor like Liam when he's tired, because I feel like I hurt our son." A sob escapes from Santana's chest, and she watches Oliver latch on to her nipple without opening his eyes. "He had a severe IVH, and he has a shunt in his brain. He could have cerebral palsy, or a learning disability, or behavioral problems, and I can't _fix_ it for him."

"He's not _broken._ He doesn't need to be fixed."

"You know what I _mean_ Brittany."

"I feel like sometimes we talk in circles, Santana." Brittany exhales sharply, and Santana can feel her frustration. "We had this conversation last year about _you._ "

"It's not the same conversation. My fucked up tits are not the same as our son who had brain surgery."

"It's not about your breasts or his brain. It's about the fact that you think everything that comes out of you is some kind of awful poison. As someone who loves you so much, it's incredibly frustrating for me."

"Well imagine _living_ it, if you're so frustrated with me."

"I'm not trying to start a fight." Brittany sighs. "But if I gave birth to Max and Oliver, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"What's that's supposed to mean?"

"You're being combative with me, when I'm trying to talk to you rationally. If I gave birth to them, you wouldn't be blaming me for hurting them, or thinking I was poisonous."

"Well maybe you should have."

"Santana." Brittany gasps. "I can't do this right now. I'm not going to argue with you in the neonatal intensive care unit while you're nursing our son."

"Maybe it's time we had a fight, Brittany. Maybe you should tell me what you really think of me."

"What I really think of you." Brittany lowers her voice to barely above a whisper. "Is that I love you, and I love these two beautiful gifts you gave me, but that it's really hard to watch you hate yourself so often. You think Liam is perfect—"

"He is. He's the most perfect thing in the entire world."

"And so are our other two boys. You forget that I watched Liam hooked up to machines, and looking like he might not make it. I've _done_ this before, but yet you're completely failing to recognize that this is hard for me too. I _know_ you're in physical and emotional pain, and you're scared. But I'm scared too."

"Brittany—"

"I'm sorry, Santana, but let me finish. I refuse to be _those_ parents. I was never that parent with Liam, and neither were you. And I know you're _not_ going to be that way with Oliver, and you're just beating yourself up because you're you, and your goddamn father filled your head with garbage, so the wind blows backward and you think you did it. But I _need_ you to relax, take a look at this baby boy you brought into this world, and remember that you created two very perfect things. They're brand new, and they're beautiful, just like you."

"Okay." Santana breathes deeply, stunned by Brittany.

She closes her eyes, then opens them again, looking at the tiny boy in her arms. At such slight weights, she can feel that he's lighter than his brother, but there's a certain sense of enormity in his presence, something she couldn't feel the first time she held him. He's her third son, the third one who changed her world. Liam, when he invited her to her birthday party, and who taught her to be a mother. Max, when he laid in her arms for the first time, and showed her what body was capable of. And Oliver, right in this moment, as he blinks up at her, his white bandage crown and suckling lips, reminding her that she can do this, reminding her the depth of a mother's love.

"We're going to get you well, my sweet boy. Mama's been taking care of everything with the doctors, but I'm here now too. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."


	67. Chapter 67

Liam finally gets to meet Max. Though Santana had wanted it to be a day earlier, she and Brittany have a conversation and make the decision that given the circumstances, the best thing they can do is have him come up and help take Max home, and let him peer through the NICU window to see Oliver. It unsettles Santana a little, missing her son as she does, but once she finally puts on a happy enough face to FaceTime with him, letting him see both Max in her arms, and a little later, Oliver in Brittany's, she feels more secure in the choice they made.

Once Santana is dressed, everything _aching_ as she pulls on maternity leggings and her Columbia sweatshirt, she perches on the edge of the bed, watching Brittany dress Max. She thinks, maybe, in all of her life, after all the things that happened to her, today might be the most painful day. Knowing that the third car seat in Brittany's car will be empty, knowing that she has to leave her youngest son in the hospital, knowing that she'll feel a perpetual sense of emptiness until he comes home has her in such a state that she can barely get her sneakers on her feet. But she keeps watching Brittany, her driving force, as she carefully guides Max's head through his _I Woke Up This Cute_ shirt, and his legs into cloud printed sweatpants. She tries not to mourn the fact that Oliver's _I Like the Nightlife_ outfit sits unused in her hospital bag. She just has to be in the moment, because if she's not, then she'll never survive.

"Look who's here." Whitney whispers in the doorway, holding Liam's shoulders in front of her. He grins from ear to ear, pressing out his chest to show off his _Super Brother_ sweatshirt, and even Santana, in her state, can't help but grin back at him.

"I'm here! I'm here! I get to help take Baby Maxie home!"

"Baby Max is _very_ much looking forward to it." Brittany beams, cradling the baby in her arms as she approaches Santana and the bed. "Look who's here, Max, it's your big brother Liam."

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" He scampers into the room, hugging Santana as he cranes his neck until Brittany brings Max down to eye level. "Whoa. You is _very_ little."

"He is, isn't he?" Santana laughs. "He's going to have to eat a _lot_ to catch up to you."

"Gramma said we can has pizza for dinner! I share my pizza with you, Baby Max."

"That's so nice of you, Li." Brittany ruffles his hair. "But remember what we told you? Mommy is going to feed him with her body."

"That's silly, Mama." Liam laughs the same way he did when they first explained nursing to him. "Pizza is yummy and Mommy Noodle's body is not for eating."

"How about as soon as we get home, I show you how Max eats from my body, Sir?" Santana runs her hands through her hair, exhausted. "I promise, he doesn't bite. He has no teeth yet."

"Okey Mama, if you say so!"

"Where did you learn that one?" Brittany chuckles.

"From Grampa! He says it all the time!"

"That's true, he definitely does. Now what do you think, Liam, do you want to go have a peek at Oliver through the window?"

"And then I hold Max?"

"As soon as we get home, you can definitely hold Max."

"And show him my trains?"

"I think he'd love that a _lot,_ Li." Brittany kisses his forehead. "Let's go."

They go out into the hallway, Brittany holding Santana's bag, Max, and Liam's hand, and Whitney following a few steps behind. When they get to the door of the NICU, Santana tells Liam that she's going to bring Oliver close to the window, and she slips inside the door. Brittany understands that she needs to hold Oliver one last time before they leave—even though they'll be back later—and Santana nods her gratitude through the glass, before going over to his incubator. Oliver is asleep, which Santana is grateful for, always hating for him to be awake when one of them is not around, and carefully, she lifts him up. She kisses the opposite side of his head from where the shunt is, and she cradles him close to her, trying to impart all the love she can into this little boy, before she carries him to the window.

On the other side, Brittany holds both Liam and Max in her arms, and Santana's heart aches, wishing she could bring Oliver over to them. Instead though, she leans into the glass, more careful than she's ever been, and she presents her third son to his big brothers, and to Whitney, who's already met him several times. At the sight, Liam waves wildly, his mouth moving quickly with words Santana can't hear, and she smiles at him, letting him know that everything is okay. Letting _herself_ know the same.

"There are your brothers, sweet boy." She whispers, though Oliver doesn't wake up. "Mommy has to go home today, but I'll be back so soon. I left bottles for you, and tonight we'll nurse again, okay? I'm not going to forget about you. I love you more than you know, my Oliver. I love you _so_ much."

She doesn't spend more than ten minutes with her son, laying him back down to sleep, and checking his monitors herself before she goes, though she knows that Holly, the interns, and the nurses will all do the same. He's content, and she's content with that, when she eschews the wheelchair in the hallway, and insists on walking beside Brittany as they exit the hospital.

If she said she didn't cry when they put Liam and Max in the car, she'd be lying, but she forces herself to stop. She forces herself to remember that this is a happy day for Max, and she wants to remember it as such. She's taking her son home. The son she grew inside of her for eight months, along side the son she's so lucky to have been given, and Liam chatters away to Max, telling him everything there is to say, even with the empty car seat on his other side.

Whitney beats them home, and with her mother and Pierce also in the house, it feels like a _lot_ for Santana. But she can't ask them all to leave, not when they've done so much to help her, not when they'll continue to, more, now than ever. So she just sinks quietly into the overstuffed chair in the living room, and she makes space for Liam beside her. Once he's settled, Brittany places Max in his arms, and even though the physical and emotional exhaustion, Santana can't help but beam at her beautiful sons, and the way Liam squeals when he feels the warm weight of a baby in his arms.

"I'm holdin' you, baby Max! Do you know my name? I'm Liam Connelly Pierce and Lopez. And you are Max—" He looks up at Santana, asking her to help him finish.

"Max Xavier Pierce-Lopez." Santana tells him, leaning to kiss the top of his head. "And your other brother is Oliver Wyatt Pierce-Lopez."

"Those is some big 'mportant names like me! I like you, Max, you can be my baby brother forever and ever and ever and ever."

"I think he'd like that a lot. And look, Sir, he's opening up his eyes for you, you see?"

"He has brown eyes like me. Now I can draw him eyes in my pitchers. You have the same eyes as Ol'ver?"

"He does, remember what we told you? How they're going to look the same?"

"How we gonna know this one is Max?"

"Well." Santana sucks in a breath, looking at Brittany, and thinking of the scar Oliver will have from his surgery. "We'll know them in a lot of ways, but when Oliver comes home…" She grazes her finger over the scar on the side of Liam's face. "He's a little smaller than Max, and he's also going to have a little scar from his surgery, and that will make it easier to tell them apart when they're still very small."

"I got stars too, Max. You got any?"

"Let me tell you a little secret." Brittany lifts up her shirt a little, revealing her naval. Santana furrows her brow, trying to figure out what she's doing, when she points to it. "Did you know, Li, that your belly button is made from a scar?"

"Mama, that's _silly._ " He giggles, rubbing his face against Max's. "Mama's silly."

"It is _very_ silly, but it's true. And guess what? We can't even see Max's scar yet, because he still has his umbilical cord attached to him, from when he was attached inside Mommy's belly."

"Can I see? Can I see?"

"I'll tell you what, next time Max needs a new diaper, you can come help me, and I'll show you."

"Okey, Mama. Mommy Noodle sayed I can see him eat her body too."

"It's true, I did." Santana touches the soft skin of Max's face. "And I think he's getting hungry now, so what do you think, are you ready to see?"

"Yes! Yes! Max, you cannot eat Mommy Noodle up I love you so." He warns, shaking his head. "I needs my Mommy Noodle."

"He won't, Liam, don't worry." Santana takes Max from Liam, pulling up her sweatshirt and down her nursing bra. "Okay, little guy, let's show Liam how gentle you are."

Liam watches in awe, little eyes wide, as Liam nurses, and through her exhaustion, Santana manages to find a certain sense of peace. She's incomplete, more incomplete than she's ever felt, but when Brittany perches on the armrest of the chair and squeezes Santana's shoulder, she at least finds the ability to breathe, to be in the moment with two of her boys.

"He's not bitin' my Mommy Noodle, see, Mama? He's slurpin' like in a straw!"

"That's one way to put it." Brittany chuckles, handing Santana a clean burp cloth. "Now he'll probably fall asleep for a _really_ long time, Li."

"Okey, then I can plan with my trains, and I come back later?"

"If that's what you want to do, go right on ahead. I bet Grandma Maribel or Grandpa would play with you."

"I'll check!" He wiggles down from the chair, and runs into the kitchen, looking for someone to go in the playroom with him.

"They don't all have to stay in the kitchen." Santana murmurs, wiping Max's chin and putting him over her shoulder. "I feel like I'm making everyone really uncomfortable."

"They're fine, honey. Mom and Dad got a hotel on 66th, and your mom's going to go back home for the night after we get back from the night visit with Oliver."

"Britt, they don't—"

"They do." Brittany shakes her head. "We need to get into a routine, and having three extra adults in the house every night isn't going to help anyone."

"A routine." The words sound hollow coming from Santana's lips. "How is anything going to feel routine while he's not here?"

"We have to try, Santana. I'm worried about you, and what this is going to do to you."

"I'm starting my meds again tonight. I shouldn't have skipped the past few days, it has me even more messed up than I would be anyway. I just need—" Santana sucks in a shuddering breath, trying to fight the tears back. "I need to be stronger. I'm trying, but I need to not feel like I'm going to collapse in anguish every second of every day. I keep telling myself how I've told so many parents so many worse things, and they get up and just _keep going._ Liam and Max and Oliver need me to keep going, but I just feel so _tired._ "

"You're going, I'm watching you go, and I'm watching how strong you seem, even just since yesterday. And trust me, Santana, it was hard for me to get up and face today too."

"I can't believe last week I was sitting here complaining about how much I missed work, like being home was the worst thing in the entire world…and now…"

"It's not the worst." Brittany shakes her head. "It feels like the worst, but _God,_ we're so lucky it's not, and we're so lucky that he had one of the best surgeons in the _world._ Holly is…"

"She's the only one who would have put a shunt in right away instead of waiting it out. I know, Britt, I know. And you're right. I just…don't even know how to manage all of the things going on right now."

"I know this sounds really simplistic." Brittany slides into the seat vacated by Liam, and puts her arm around Santana. "But after you get a little sleep this afternoon, and we go back to see Oliver, we need to work out a schedule. We're going to feel torn in three directions no matter what we do, but…maybe that'll make it easier."

"I have to talk to Shelby, I can't go back in six weeks if he's not ready…"

"Sue is aware of the situation, and so is Shelby. If one of us needs to stay home longer, we'll work it out, Santana."

"You're the head of plastics…"

"And I'm the mother of that little boy. I don't want you to feel like it has to be _you_ who does everything. I still have my hands in my department while I'm on maternity, so I can do the same if I need family medical leave. Let's just see what the next few weeks bring us."

"I still don't understand how you manage to think so clearly when everything feels like a jumbled, chaotic mess in my head."

"We cope differently. Planning is part of how I keep myself from snapping."

"I feel like I haven't kissed you in a week." Santana realizes suddenly, though it could have been hours, for all she remembers.

"Better?" Brittany asks, slowly kissing Santana's lips, and stroking her hair, while Max lays asleep on her shoulder.

"I think so, yeah. I'm trying not to feel so sad."

"Please talk to me if it gets to be too much. I know how heavy things settle on you, sweetheart, and I don't want you to feel like you're alone."

"I don't. I feel so much less alone since yesterday…you kind of…I don't know, snapped me into the real world, I guess."

"What else can I do to help you?"

"Britt, you haven't slept in days, you should rest, instead of worrying about me."

"Santana, I can do both. Do you want to lay down for awhile? Liam's going to need a nap soon anyway, and this guy—" Brittany caresses Max's forehead. "—is out."

"I was going to try and wait an hour, and act like I could function enough to talk to our parents…but honestly, I'm so tired that I can't even care about that. A nap sounds really good."

While Brittany rounds up Liam to rest, Santana shuffles into the kitchen holding Max. She's so sore that she's dreading walking up the stairs, and when she walks through the doorway, Pierce is on his feel before she can even see him. But though she appreciates his kindness, getting up from the chair in the living room was enough of a struggle, and she doesn't want to do it again anytime soon.

"It's okay." She shakes her head, imagining how ravaged she much look. "I'm going to lay down upstairs for a while. But I just wanted to…I don't know, thank you for being here. I know you're our parents, and you wouldn't be anywhere else, but…this isn't what we expected, and just knowing you're here…thank you, really."

"Sweetheart." Maribel stands up, careful not to hug Santana, though Santana can tell she wants to. "I think I speak on behalf of all three of us when I say how much more we're willing to do."

"I know. We're going to figure it all out later…we might still need some help with Liam and Max…or we might just have to alternate who's where for a while, I don't know." Santana sniffles back tears. "Christmas is in two weeks."

"I think, then." Whitney whispers, looking up at Santana. "We'll all have the same Christmas wish."

"Yeah…thank you. I can't even dare to hope for it, but…if it happens, that would be the best thing in the world."


	68. Chapter 68

The thirteen days that Oliver spends in the hospital are the most excruciating of Santana's life, which says a lot, considering. With two sons at home, she and Brittany manage to work out a routine, though it means having very little time with each other. The whole of it exhausts Santana so completely, especially because she can't drive on her painkillers, everything makes her cry, and if she hears one more goddamn Christmas song, she may very well stab someone right in the throat. Even as she watches Liam get excited about Santa Claus, even as she watches Max flourish at home, even as she watches Oliver grow stronger in the hospital every day, there's an inexplicable sense of…something…that settles over Santana's whole being.

Two days before Christmas, amidst Santana's attempt to wrap some of the gifts that need to go beneath the tree while Liam and Max nap, she gets a call from Brittany at the hospital an hour before they're set to switch off shifts sitting in the NICU. Leaving the gift wrapping mess on the bedroom floor, she takes the phone out of the room, so as not to wake Max in the bassinet and shuffles down the stairs. By the time she makes in there, the call goes to voicemail, and she curses under her breath, rage bubbling in her chest at the minor inconvenience. But before she can call Brittany back, the phone rings again, and she sinks down onto the couch to answer her wife.

"Hi." She murmurs listlessly. "What's up?"

" _Hey. Listen, Holly wants to meet with us at three o'clock. Can you get your mom to come down and stay with the boys and meet me here. If not, I can call—"_

"No." Santana cuts Brittany off, adamant that no one besides their parents take care of their newborn, and Brittany's parents have gone home for a few days to settle things in Boston before returning for Christmas. "I'll call my mom."

" _Okay. Can you do me a favor and bring me a change of clothes? Ollie spit up all over my shirt, and I'd rather look a little decent for a sit down with the head of neonatology."_

"Holly doesn't give a shit what you look like." She finds herself saying, though she doesn't mean to be so brusque with Brittany. Running her hand through her messy hair, she takes a breath and sighs. "Yeah, sure, fine. I'll get there as soon as she's here."

Santana hangs up without a goodbye, and hardly realizes she does it. After she calls her mother and arranges for her to come down, Santana looks down at herself, sweatpants covered with a questionable stain that may or may not be Max's urine. After shoving a skirt and blouse for Brittany in a bag, Santana goes into her own closet, forcing herself into maternity jeans and a sweater, and hoping that Max _wakes up already_ so she can nurse him before she leaves. Instead, her mom comes, and she settles for waking him up, shuddering at the sound of his scream, and getting her nipple into his mouth to feed him.

She takes a cab uptown, and for the first time, it hits her that Holly might want to meet with her to give terrible news. The thought of it makes her sick, and she gags a little before staring out the window to scowl at the Christmas lights. At 2:36, she gets to the hospital, and she's beyond grateful that she gets a few minutes with Oliver, hurrying up the elevator, and barely answering her colleagues who try to offer both congratulations and sympathetic smiles.

When Santana is finally in the NICU, she crosses over to where Brittany holds Oliver, and breathes the smallest sigh of relief to see him awake. He's growing, he's growing so fast, and before she can stop herself, tears stream down her cheeks. Noticing her presence, Brittany murmurs down to Oliver, then looks up, smiling at Santana.

"Hey honey, you look nice."

"It's…honestly whatever." She shrugs. "Are you going to change?"

"Yeah, thanks for bringing me something. This guy took down more than he could handle earlier, I think." Brittany strokes the side of Oliver's face. "Mommy's here, Ol."

"Hi, sweet baby." Santana takes him from Brittany's arms as she stands up, then settles down into the chair. Everything else melts away in the precious moments she has with him, and Santana kisses his newly unbandaged head, careful to avoid his surgical incision, and rocks him back at forth. "I'm here."

When he blinks up at her and nuzzles her face into her chest, Santana struggles to remember which side she fed Max on at home. She tried those bra clips, and hair bands, and even switching her wedding ring from side to side, but ultimately, everything failed. She's too exhausted from stress and nursing two babies in two places to even remember to switch around markers. Instead, she goes by feeling, and sometimes she fails miserably, having to pump an overfilled side, and worrying over whether whichever baby she fed last got enough to eat. Truth be told, she's a mess, and the only thin threads preventing her from completely falling apart are her wife and the three little boys she loves with every fiber of her being.

Oliver is still nursing when Brittany comes back in her clean clothes, looking more like Dr. Pierce than Mama Brittany. Santana just gives her a small smile and continues to stroke Oliver's head. It feels like a hundred years have passed since she was last Dr. Lopez, but right now, she can't be. Right now she just has to be Mommy Noodle with bags under her eyes from a crying baby, rather than a double shift. Right now, she has to remember how to even take a shower, before she can manage incisions and stitches and every procedure she's spent the last decade and a half of her life attempting to perfect. Right now, she has to _exist,_ because even that feels like a lot.

Once Oliver is settled back in his little plastic crib, adorned with pictures of Christmas trees from Liam—after Brittany quietly put up their tree late one night, to avoid making Santana cry that they did it as a family without Oliver—Santana leans her head against the top of it, and looks down at him one last time before she follows Brittany down to Holly's office. The door is open, though she's on the phone, and she waves them in, smiling a smile too happy for Santana to handle. She sinks into a chair, and she puts her hand on the arm rest of the one beside her. When Brittany sits, she gently placed her own on top of Santana's, and Santana's mind wanders for a moment, trying to remember the last time they held hands. Trying to remember what things felt like when they were normal, trying to remember how it felt to be a human being, and to remember these things. It feels like a lifetime ago, that's all she can determine.

"Sorry about that." Holly chirps, hanging up the phone. "It was my mother, somehow she hasn't gotten the hint that I've worked a double every Christmas for the past fifteen years. The turkey dinner in the caf is on point, trust me."

"Good to know." Santana mumbles. "Because who knows we'll be eating this year."

"What's that, sweet cheeks?"

"Nothing, it's fine." She shakes her head, though Brittany looks at her with concern. "No offense, Holly, and not that I don't care about your mom or the turkey, or whatever else is going on with your life, but why are we here?"

"Cut right to the chase, okay." Holly laughs, and her typically endearing presence just grates on Santana's fragile nerves. "Want to take your kid home?"

"What?" Brittany leans forward a little, and Santana watches her. "The great Christmas discharge?"

"You know it's a real phenomenon." Holly smiles at them, but Santana doesn't soften. "He's ready. The incision is healing well, he's off oxygen, and he's gained weight. I'm releasing him to two surgeons, both of whom will be home for some time. It happens to work out that it's Christmas, but I'm not just releasing him for that reason."

"So when can we take him?" Santana is curt in her response, and she doesn't even care.

"Look, Santana." Holly leans over the desk. "I can set a discharge date for tomorrow or the next day, and you can have to deal with all the fanfare of everyone in this hospital getting in your business like we know they will, or we can do this privately in my office right now, and you can take him from there."

"Now?"

"If you're ready, yes. Nothing is going to change overnight, and I personally don't like to do it that way. It's up to you."

"Santana?" Brittany looks over at her when she remains quiet, giving her the choice, though Santana knows they both want him to come home now. She just…doesn't know how to make the words to say it, doesn't know how to express her gratitude for Holly for everything she's done.

"Yeah…okay. The car seat is in the car, and I left his going home clothes in there too in case. Let's just…get him out of here."

While Holly writes up the papers and talks incessantly about everything, Santana just sits quietly, staring at the magnetic balls she hates so much on her desk. She doesn't have any questions. She's heard everything, she's read everything, she's stayed up night after night obsessing about what the future looks like for Oliver, so she just wants her to sign the stupid forms, and let them go. Even when Brittany goes down to the car to get Oliver's clothes, Santana still stares ahead of her, incapable of making conversation with someone she's long considered a friend.

"Santana?" Holly finally breaks the silence. "You okay?"

"Fine." She clips the word at the end, and pretends to dig in her bag for her phone.

"I'm saying this because I care about you, and we all watch out for each other around here. You don't seem fine."

"What do you want me to say, Hol?" Santana rolls her eyes and huffs. "That I'm fucking falling apart and there's nothing I feel like I can do to make it better? That I keep promising my wife that I'm not beating myself up, but I can't stop? That fucking Campbell's soup commercials make me cry? Huh?"

"The way you feel is perfectly normal." Holly tells her softly. "I see this a lot."

"What are you, a shrink now?"

"I'm a doctor who has seen parents go through this enough times to recognize the signs, and I'm also your friend."

"He's coming home. That's what the problem was, that I couldn't have my son in my damn house, and I had to split time between my kids, and I barely saw my wife. It's fine now. It's going to be fine."

"Santana—"

"It's _fine._ " Santana stands up, huffing as she does.

Her incision still hurts, but she makes it a big point to walk toward the door. She doesn't have to stay in the room with Holly, God knows she has patients walk out on her all the time. So, she walks back down the hall to the NICU, and she finds a nurse standing over Oliver. Like she always does, Santana waits. She doesn't tell the nurse not to do what she's doing. She doesn't want word to get it that they're taking Oliver home on this cold December day. She just wants to go quietly with her wife and her baby, because any more than that, she can't handle.

When Santana finally picks him up again, Oliver is sleeping. So she sits in the chair, and she rocks him, beyond grateful that she gets to have him next to her bed. Beyond grateful that this little boy, so much smaller still than his brother, is okay. Despite how everything else feels, she clings to that, and when Brittany comes in the room, donning the small gift bag with Oliver's outfit—the one meant to go with Max's two weeks ago—Santana manages the smallest of smiles.

"Do you want to change him, honey?" Brittany asks, always so careful with Santana these days, always waiting for her to snap.

"It's fine, you can do it." Santana stands and hands Oliver off to her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Brittany, I'm sure. That's why I said it."

After Oliver is dressed, and Holly comes in to give the final word on his discharge, they leave quietly, managing to get down the elevator without running into anyone they know. It's bitter cold in the parking garage, and before Santana can say something to Brittany, she sees the car, still running and warmed up for them. While Brittany buckles Oliver into his car seat, Santana gets in the front seat, looking out the window. She can't understand why she doesn't feel elated. She can't understand why all she feels is exhaustion, coupled with the smallest bit of relief. Oliver is coming home. Her sons will be together. She should be over the moon. But for some inexplicable reason, she's not.

When they pull into the driveway, the lights Brittany hung twinkle in the front of the house, and the tree glows through the window. Santana sees Liam's face press against the glass, and when Brittany gets Oliver out of the back, she sees him react, then run shouting to her mother. She looks over at Brittany, with Oliver close to her chest, a blanket covering him, and she tries to smile. It shouldn't be this hard. _Nothing_ should be this hard.

"You bringded home my brother!" Liam cries when Santana opens the door. "It's a surprise and he's home! He's home! He's come! I askeded Santa to bring him, but you're so silly, you did instead!"

"We did." Brittany whispers, beaming at him. "Is Max awake?"

"No." Liam's face flushes. "I forgetted not to be screaming. Sorry Mama."

"It's okay, buddy, I know you're really excited. How about we wash up our hands, and then you can meet Mr. Ollie?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Liam cheers, and Brittany passes Oliver over to Santana so she can help Liam, as Maribel comes into the room.

"Oh! What an amazing surprise! Did you _know_ he was coming today and wanted to surprise us?" Maribel asks, peering beneath the blanket in Santana's arms. Though she's seen him countless times in the hospital, Santana knows it's a big deal for her mother to see him at home for the first time…but she isn't ready to let anyone else hold him. She isn't ready for any of this.

"We had no idea." Santana shakes her head, and sinks down into the chair beside the Christmas tree, cradling her sleeping son in her arms. "How long has Max been down?"

"Nearly an hour. Gave me a little break to give Liam his dinner." Maribel laughs, patting Santana's arm. "There's chicken in the kitchen, can I make you a plate?"

"I'm fine. Thanks, Ma."

"I'm going to head home then…" She shifts her weight between her feet, looking pointedly at Santana.

"You don't have to. You came all the way down here, so you can stay if you want."

"I'm okay, sweetheart. I'll talk to you tomorrow about Christmas Day?"

"Yeah, fine." Santana nods. "Thanks again for…you know."

"Any time, baby girl, you know that."

Maribel says goodbye to Brittany and Liam as they come back into the living room, and Santana sighs heavily, making room in her chair for Liam to scramble up beside her. It's a weird sense of deja vu for her, knowing they've done this before, knowing Liam say with Max and held him for the first time in this same chair.

"Can I hold my brother now?" Liam asks, clapping his hands excitedly.

"He's…" Santana pauses, trying to choose her words carefully. "Right now, Sir, I want to let him sleep, okay?"

"I can hold him sleeping. I'm good at holding Max sleeping and he's the same."

"Liam." Brittany steps closer to the chair, squeezing his little hand. "This is all very new for Oliver. How about we watch him sleep for a little while, and then you help me get Max up from his nap?"

"But what about baby Ollie? I never held him before."

"Baby Ollie is very delicate right now. Let's give him a little while to adjust, okay? Remember what I told you about his head?"

"Mama." Liam looks up at Brittany. "I never touch a baby's head, it's against the rules."

"You're right." Brittany smiles at him, just as Max cries over the monitor. "It is, but that rule is extra important with Oliver. Come on, come with me and let's get Max down so he can see who came home."

Santana sits with Oliver as Brittany and Liam go upstairs. She can hear them still talking about Oliver over the monitor when they get into the bedroom, and Santana feels terrible about it. Liam has been nothing but gentle with Max, and she knows he would never hurt Oliver, but right now, she's so protective of this delicate little baby, that she just can't handle the stress of it.

For most of the night, Santana sits with her boys and with Brittany. Max and Oliver nurse together, and Liam watches so intently. Though Santana knows he's itching to hold Oliver, he doesn't ask again. Instead, he shows the babies his trains. He lays beside the Christmas tree and talks about Santa, he listens as Brittany reads to them all from their big Christmas story treasury, and he goes to bed without hassle, when he's told it's time.

Once Liam is down, Brittany helps Santana bring the babies up to their bedroom. She nurses them one last time, and they fall asleep in her arms, little pajama clad feet tangling with each other. Brittany takes them then, and settles them side by side in the bassinet for the first time. Before Santana goes to wash up for bed, she looks in, glad that Brittany put Oliver so his shunt isn't on the same side as Max's head, glad that they both seem to be resting easy, and not feeling crowded by the presence of their brother.

After brushing her teeth and scrubbing her face, Santana stares at the pill bottles on the bathroom counter. Briefly, she recognizes that they aren't really working the greatest right now, but she swallows them with water from the faucet, before going back to the bedroom and pulling on clean underwear and a long t-shirt. Brittany is already in bed when she's finished, and Santana crawls in beside her, laying on her back and looking up at the ceiling.

"Santana?"

"What the fuck is wrong with me, Brittany." Santana continues to stare straight above her, her voice flat and emotionless. "He's home."

"I…I don't know." Brittany's voice softens, and she feels her roll over to look at her. "What can I do?"

"I really have no idea. I thought I would be better when he got here, and when I wasn't worrying about which of our kids I was spending time with. I had all three of them tonight, and I felt _nothing_ but this sick sense of fear that something was going to happen. It's fucking Christmas Eve in three hours, I got my wish, and still…"

"This might not be what you want to hear—" Brittany begins, and Santana shivers when her fingers find the crook of her elbow. "But you've been back on your meds for two weeks, and if they're not helping right now, maybe you need to talk to your psychiatrist."

"I've been on the same dose for ten years, Brittany. They don't just suddenly stop working."

"You know that's not true, Santana."

"Why are you condescending to me right now?"

"I'm not trying to condescend to you. I'm concerned about you. I feel like we've been talking in circles for two weeks, and I'm not getting through to you."

"Well sorry it's been a _little_ fucking stressful around here." Santana sits back up, and pulls the covers off of herself. "I'm going downstairs."

"Santana. You can't run away from this."

Santana ignores Brittany, and she walks out the bedroom door and down the stairs. She goes into the kitchen, and she stares at the faucet, before she fills a water glass, and brings it into the living room with her. Wrapping a blanket around herself, she sits down on the floor beside the dark Christmas tree. The weight of everything seems to crush her, and she begins to cry into the blanket, trying to muffle the sound of her tears. She sits like that for a long while, unable to control herself, until she feels strong arms wrap around her, and she buries her face in Brittany's chest, incapable of pushing her away.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I have you, I have Liam, I have both of the babies finally home. I have everything I never even dared to want, and I just can't even feel _happy._ My chest _hurts_ and I can't make it stop."

"I know you don't want to hear it, honey, but—"

"I know." Santana nods. "I know. I missed my meds for three days when they were born and I don't know if it messed me up or what. I just really thought I wouldn't have to talk to her and change things. I thought when he got home I magically wouldn't feel this way any more."

"It's just one thing." Brittany strokes her hair, and Santana calms a little under her touch. "It doesn't change a chemical imbalance."

"I'm so _tired_ of these chemical imbalances. If it's not one thing, it's another. I just want to be normal already. I just want to have a nice Christmas with our sons."

"It's just Christmas, Santana. We'll have so many more of them."

"I know, but…it's their first one. It's our first one married. It's the first one where we're a whole family. I just…"

"You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself." Brittany murmurs, and Santana knows she's trying not to negate her feelings. "Why don't you see if Jean can see you tomorrow? I know adjusting your meds won't be a quick fix, but at least maybe you can get on the road to it."

"Yeah. I know." Santana nods into her chest. "I'll do that."

When Santana finally gets back into bed, her sleep is restless, and interrupted by three separate feedings of the twins. In the morning, she's groggy and anxious, but she calls her psychiatrist, and she manages to get an appointment in the afternoon, despite it being Christmas Eve. Though Brittany offers to drive her, Santana shakes off the offer, insistent that it's too cold to bring the kids out, and also, because she's been so wrapped up in everything else that she hasn't even found time to get Brittany a Christmas gift.

She kisses the boys and Brittany goodbye before she goes out into the cold to hail a cab, and she takes time to reflect on her feelings and anxieties. It feels like a cesspool most of the time, but she has to do it. She has to sort out everything that goes on in her tangled brain, and she has to make sense of her feelings before she can articulate them to Jean. She knows the hormones have knocked her off track, but she knows it's more than that, she knows it's _bigger_ than that, and by the time she gets out of the cab in front of the office, she thinks maybe she'll be able to explain things to her.

As she expected, Jean adjusts her medication. Though she's been going to the psychiatrist once a month for as long as she's been medicated, Jean wants to see her next week. Though she's sighs at how disappointed she is in herself, Santana also feels like the next visit is some sort of lifeline, a rope she can grab onto while she's being pulled under by the grip of sadness. It frustrates her, that Brittany and her sons can't be enough to pull her out, but for their sake, at this point, she's willing to try anything.

The stores are crowded when Santana goes to shop, and it makes her anxious. She hates that she feels this way, but she just wants to buy Brittany a damn Christmas gift and go home. It makes her sick to her stomach that she feels no emotion behind it, but she just can't do anything to fight it. After an hour of deliberating over nothing, Santana finally settles on a necklace with leaf charms of the boys' three initials, and she has it wrapped by the girl behind the counter before she trudges outside where it's started to snow.

She has to pick up her medication, and she waits in line at the drug store, frustrated by how many people are still out. When she gets home, she sees, as usual, Liam's face pressed to the window—since she'd texted Brittany that she was on her way, Santana assumes he's been waiting for her. She unlocks the door, and he pops up and down, fully clad in Santa pajamas and a hat.

"Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! Me and Mama made a surprise for you!"

"You did, huh?" She forces a smile, and tries to to wince when he hugs her a little too hard and aggravates her incision.

"Come see the babies! Come see the babies, okey?"

"Okay, Liam, let me just take my boots off, and then I'll come up, okay?"

"Okey! I'm gonna tell Mama!"

Liam runs out of the room, and Santana gets her shoes off. She takes her time hanging her snow-damp coat in the closet, and climbs the stairs. When she gets into the bedroom, Liam is still bouncing up and down, and Brittany is in gingerbread pajamas, leaning over the bed, cooing down at Max and Oliver. For just a moment, Santana stands in the doorway and watches the four of them, feeling the strangest sense of disconnect, and wishing that simply walking through the door with bridge the cavernous divide she feels between real life and the things that go on inside of her head.

"They're elfs, Mommy Noodle! I'm Santa, and Maxie and Ollie are the elfs!"

"Say hi, Mommy." Brittany lifts the boys one at a time off the bed, beaming as she holds one in each arm.

"Britt." Santana sucks in a breath, watching the way her wife is trying to make things special for her, even while she feels like she's falling apart. "This is really cute."

"I know it's early for pajamas, but Liam was excited, and we thought we'd surprise you."

"Put yours on, Mommy Noodle! Then we can all be silly in p-jamas together!"

Santana concedes to Liam's request, letting Brittany take the kids downstairs while she changes into the new pajamas that match her wife's. When she's dressed, she goes downstairs, and finds Brittany laying the twins on a blanket beneath the Christmas tree, while Liam carefully guards them from Lord Tubbington's intrigue. She breathes in the smell of ham and potatoes, and she realizes just how much Brittany has done to let her sit back and relax, without worrying about trying to keep up with the holiday expectations.

"We have to do the star! We have to do the star! Mama said because Ollie is home, we can put it on the tree now!"

"Give me just a minute with Mommy, okay, Li? Then we'll do the star, and take some pictures of all my best boys."

"Okey! I'll get Percy for the pictures!" Liam jumps up and runs into the playroom, while Santana keeps watching Max and Oliver, blinking up at the bright lights above them.

"Is this okay?" Brittany asks softly, swatting away the cat.

"Yeah. It's nice. I'm sorry I just…couldn't do the big Christmas Eve thing this year."

"Don't be. We'll go to your mom's tomorrow, my parents will come down in the afternoon. A low key night with the kids tonight is what we all need. How was it with Jean?"

"It was…" Santana looks down, embarrassed. "She changed things, and I'm going back next week."

"How do you feel about that?" Brittany kisses her head, letting her lips linger there.

"I honestly don't even know." She shakes her head. "I guess I'll tell you when I see how I feel in a week or so."

"I'm back! I'm back!" Liam bolts in, holding three trains. "I brought Daisy and Edward for my brothers!"

"They'll like that a lot." Santana stands, then bends over as best as she can to lift up the babies, accepting help from Brittany, who puts them both in her arms.

"Come on, Liam." Brittany lifts him into her arms, and reaches for the tree star with her free hand. "Help us out the star on the tree."


	69. Chapter 69

The week between Christmas and New Year is hard. Every morning, Santana wakes up and stares at herself in the mirror, hoping today will be the day that she feels better. And every day, she doesn't. Every day, she feels like she's being swallowed whole by something she can't control. Every day, she hates herself just a little bit more that she can't be the wife and mother that her wife and children deserve. Every day, she hopes that Brittany doesn't decide she's had enough of the snapping and the crying and the staring off in to space. Every day, she thanks whoever is out there listening that this woman loves her, and tolerates her when she's a complete disaster.

For New Years Eve, Santana resolves to take Brittany out. It feels like a thousand years ago when they last has a date, and Brittany deserves a night away. She deserves a night where they can be the two of them, just like they used to be. She deserves a night where her wife manages to be a human being, and change out of spit-up covered clothes and stops crying for five minutes. So Santana makes reservations. She books dinner downtown, away from the chaos of Times Square. She pumps enough milk that her mom can feed the twins. And if she wasn't so damn scared about leaving those brand new babies overnight, she would have booked a hotel room too. She's trying. She's trying as hard as she possibly can, because it's the best she can do.

Because she feels terrible to leave the boys out of their New Year celebration—torn, as she always is—Santana arranges an early midnight for them at five o'clock, before her mom will come to watch them for the duration of the evening. She drags herself out of the house, and she gets sparkling cider and party hats and streamers. She doesn't care how much it will grate on her nerves, she'll let Liam bang on the pots and pans that she was never allowed, and she helps him into his little jacket and tie, while Brittany dresses Max and Oliver in matching tuxedo rompers.

Once she and Brittany are dressed in their formalwear to go out, the five of them celebrate together as a family, with Brittany setting the timer to count down to their fake midnight. Liam whoops and hollers, and Max cries a little at the sound of the pots and pans, while Oliver just stares in fascination. They kiss their sons once, twice, three times, but Brittany and Santana save their own kiss for Itheir/I midnight, much later on in the evening.  
Because Santana didn't want the stress of finding a cab on a holiday, she made sure to arrange for a car to pick them up. Once Maribel arrives, Brittany helps Santana into her coat, and they leave together. In the back seat of the car, Santana finds Brittany's hand, and silently, she brings it to her lips, kissing the back of it. With everything that swirls around in her mind, she has an overwhelming fear that Brittany doesn't think she loves her. It terrifies her, it makes her feel like she's about to spiral out of control, but with that one small gesture, Santana attempts to convey just how much she does.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight, Santana. You really didn't have to do this. I would have been totally fine watching the ball drop at home."

"I wanted to." Santana shrugs. "It's just been…a really bad month, and…you're just really good to me. I can't make any of this up to you, Britt, but…I thought a night out would at least be a start."

"I love you, sweetheart. I know that it's really hard for me to let you into your head, but I'm in this with you. I don't ever want you to feel like it's something you have to make up to me. I knew who you were when I married you, and my marriage vows are serious to me. In sickness and in health. You're sick, and I'm here."

"I hate being sick." Santana stifles the tears that threaten to fall. "The reason I take all these damn pills is so I don't have to be. I've stayed…mostly stable for years, or, at least as stable as I could be, but this has thrown me for a loop, and I don't feel like myself."

"I can tell. And that's why I've really tried not to snap back at you when you've been so combative. I know that is not _you_ talking."

"It doesn't make it right."

"No, it doesn't." Brittany shakes her head. "But I can understand it, and I don't love you any less for it. This whole thing has been really hard on me too."

"I know, and I've been shit at recognizing that. You've taken care of everything for me and the boys. You told me in the hospital how hard it was for you to see Oliver, and I just…haven't even asked you since."

"It's still hard sometimes." Brittany confesses. "I know you think about it all the time, how you're a surgeon and you couldn't help him, and so do I. I know this is so dumb, but I look at his head and think I should have gone in there and done his stitches because I worry about scar tissue that might bother him down the line. I think about how maybe if I'd gone into a different field than plastics, then I'd have a much better idea of how to help him as he grows, and an understanding of what complications he might face. Or I think I should have gone into psychiatry, because then maybe I could help _you_. And then I remember that my plastics expertise helps Liam, and makes sure he gets the best care. So largely, I feel torn at every moment."

"I didn't realize." Santana says softly.

"I know, and I don't begrudge you for that. I want you to get better, so you don't feel like you're about to snap all the time. I'm torn, but I can handle it. Honey…I just want you to feel good again."

"I want that too. I feel like…I haven't even gotten to enjoy Max and Oliver. I've been all over the place since I found out we were having twins, and now they're here and I just…can't feel happy about it. Every time one of them cries, I feel like I want to curl into a ball and die. I'm trying to get past it."

"You're doing everything you can, Santana. You got through Christmas, and tonight, it's me and you."

"I selfishly needed this so much."

"I selfishly needed it too."

When they get to dinner, Santana pulls out Brittany's chair, and sinks down into her own. She's already exhausted, but she'll be damned if that lets her stop her from spending the night with her wife. When the server brings over a bottle of wine, she take that much needed sip, letting the acidity sit on her tongue, letting the rush of it hit her body. She won't have more than a glass, careful right now not to mix too much alcohol with her medication, and even more careful not to taint her milk, but that first taste calms her, settles her. And across the table, Brittany gives her a loving smile, and she gives one in return, reaching to grab her hand, squeezing it, and feeling the strength that it provides for her.

They make idle chatter as they eat, nothing too big, nothing too serious. After dinner, they dance. It's still a little painful for Santana to do so, but she wants to. She wants the feeling of being in Brittany's arms. Brittany always leads, because she's secretly the most amazing dancer, and Santana loves that feeling of being guided by the woman she loves. In a lot of ways, she feels like that _them_ of their relationship has been sidelined by the difficult situation they've been in, but when Santana looks in Brittany's eyes, and feels her hands on her waist, she remembers who they are, she remembers why she fell in love with this beautiful, strong, amazing woman. Brittany is her rock, Brittany is her saving grace, and she just wants Brittany to know that in spite of everything else, that she appreciates what an amazing human being she is.

"I haven't told you tonight how beautiful you look." Santana whispers, arms wrapped around Brittany's neck.

"Thank you, Santana. So do you." Brittany kisses her lips gently.

"Did you think last New Year that we'd be here?"

"I bought your ring the first week of January, and I'd told you at Christmas that I'd promised to buy you one. The way everything worked out isn't how I expected, but I'm so glad it did."

"You don't regret marrying me?"

"Santana Lopez." Brittany shakes her head. "There is nothing in the world I regret less than marrying you. I know it's been a hard year, but there's been so much good in it. We got married, you got your scar tissue fixed, we had two beautiful boys, Liam is doing is well. My life has taken the most amazing turn since I met you."

"Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that. You've always been so together, and I've always been so…not."

"I think…seeing you carry twins was the most together thing I've ever seen a person do. Your pregnancy was so hard, and yet you kept it together until the very end. As much as I was thrilled that you wanted us to do this together, I was concerned."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Santana asks, as Brittany dips her carefully, supporting her lower back so she doesn't put too much pressure on her abdomen.

"Because I trust that you know your body, and I knew that I'd be here for you, whatever happened."

"It was a lot for me to expect of you…"

"Those boys are as much mine as they are yours. I didn't carry them, but I can carry you through it. I'm not going to lie and say it's easy for me. Seeing the woman I love most in the world feel _pain_ is one of the hardest things I've done, and that says a lot. But my mom has been really supportive, and talked me off the ledge quite a few times."

"I…" Santana takes a breath, having not realized that Brittany had been speaking to her mom. "I'm glad you've had her. I…wish you had me."

"I've always had you, Santana. Don't ever think that I haven't. But right now, I just need to have someone else I can talk to."

"I understand that." She nods, and Brittany pulls her closer. "We're terrible at dancing and forgetting."

"Do you want to dance and forget?"

"No, I want to dance to remember." Santana murmurs, then finds herself laughing a little. "That was really _Hotel California_."

"Maybe a little." Brittany laughs in response. "Let me pull you closer, then we'll dance as long as you can stand up."

They dance until Santana feels sore all over, and she nearly collapses back into the chair at their table. As tired as she is, she's determined to make it to midnight. She's determined not to fall asleep sitting up in the restaurant. She's determined to just be human, until maybe she turns back to a pumpkin at midnight…or however that metaphor goes. It's Brittany though who nudges her at eleven-thirty, her own eyes drooping from the lack of sleep two newborns bring. It's Brittany who asks her if she wants to go home, to spend the rest of their evening together and in comfortable clothes. Santana, with her sides pinched by the dress that's a little too small, agrees, and Brittany finds them a cab, while Santana stands wrapped in her coat in the entryway of the restaurant.

There's traffic on the cab ride home, and Santana gets antsy as she listens to the radio, and watches the numbers tick up on the radio clock. At eleven-fifty-eight, and still five blocks from home, Santana asks the cabbie to let them out, and she tunes into the broadcast from Times Square on her phone.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asks, cocking her head to the side.

"I can't start the new year with you in the dirty backseat of a cab. I just need…to apparently kiss you in front of an Indian restaurant instead."

"It doesn't matter where I kiss you, Santana." Brittany leans in, kissing her over and over again, until they hear the cheers of _Happy New Year!_ through Santana's phone. "It's going to be a better year, okay?"

"Okay." Santana nods soberly, taking Brittany's hand to walk home. It's hard for her to believe it. It's hard for her to feel any sort of _joy_ right now, but she clings to it like a life raft. She clings to it, because it's all she can do.

When they get into the house, Maribel sits with a glass of champagne on the couch. Liam lays with his head in her lap, and the twins sleep in their matching bouncers in front of her, still clad in their tuxedo rompers. Santana pauses for a moment, watching as Brittany kneels down the kiss Max and Oliver first, studying their little faces. When she's through with them, she goes to Liam, cradling his cheek in her hand and just taking him in. It's a sight Santana loves more than anything, and she slides off her shoes slowly, not wanting to break the moment.

"I hope you don't mind I kept them down here with me." Maribel murmurs. "Oliver is the only one who made it to midnight. He just went back down."

"The hospital lights." Santana says absently. "He's up a lot at night."

"Mommy Noodle?" Liam reaches his hands over his head and slurs sleepily. "You home?"

"We're home, Sir." She approaches him and gently kisses his head.

"It's New Years again? I didn't see the big ball, okey?"

"That's okay." Wishing she could lift him into her arms and hug him, Santana settles for sitting at his side and ruffling his hair. "We'll watch it together tomorrow."

After Maribel waves them away, telling her she'll settle into the guest room when she's ready, Brittany carries Liam up to his bed, and Santana carefully lifts Max and Oliver into her arms. She takes each stair slowly, so cautious that she might slip and drop them, and when she's finally in the bedroom, she breathes a sigh of relief. Though she knows she should put them down while they're sleeping, or she's going to have at least one crying baby on her hands, Santana chooses anyway to hold them in her arms. For a long time, she looks at Max, sound asleep, with his face wrinkles up. Anxiety flares in her chest, thinking that maybe she doesn't pay him enough attention, that maybe she's so often concerned with Oliver's head, and Oliver's breathing, and Oliver's eating, and Oliver's…everything, that Max doesn't get enough love from her. It's irrational, for certain, but the idea of it causes a pit to form in her stomach, before she lays Oliver in the bassinet and chooses to just hold Max, if only for a little while.

"My Max." She whispers, and he blinks opens up his eyes, though he doesn't cry. "My strong boy. I knew it might be time to feel you soon. Oliver got a bottle from grandma before bed, so how about a little me and you time, hmm?"

As exhausted as Santana is, she has this visceral need to keep her eyes open and engage with Max. Most of her night feedings have been in a state of utter exhaustion, where she's side nursing and attempting to stay awake while one or both of the boys are latched on to her, but having him cradled in her arms in the low light, even still in her evening wear, is soothing to her. She has to keep doing this. She has to keep pushing herself to manage beyond what she thinks she can.

Struggling, Santana manages to unzip the back of her dress, and she lets the top fall down her shoulders. The hook on her regular bra is even harder with one hand, but she gets the whole thing off and guides Max to her breast, just staring down at him when her latches on. He's a gentler eater than Oliver is, and Santana sits back against the headboard of the bed, cradling his head and allowing him the much needed alone time with her.

"Someone's awake." Brittany comes in the room, smiling as she unzips her dress and pulls a t-shirt out of the top drawer of the dresser.

"He wanted some moms time, I think. Do you…um…maybe want to sit with us?"

"I'd really love that." She quickly pulls the pins from her hair, striking Santana with how beautiful she looks. Santana watches her until the bed dips beside her, and Brittany looks over her shoulder at Max. "I haven't had the chance to tell you how beautiful you look when you do that."

"What?"

"Nurse. It looks like it comes so natural to you."

"It doesn't at all." Santana shakes her head. "It's honestly exhausting and takes so much more out of me than I thought it would."

"You know, Santana, if you—"

"No. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends it, and especially for Oliver, I need to do it. It's getting easier. I just…I'm glad I could nurse Max alone tonight. I feel like…he had this to himself for the first few weeks, and then Oliver came home, and I've been like…neglecting him. Balance is so hard."  
"Trust me, I feel it too. We went from one child to three so quickly, and especially with everything you've been going through, just to find a moment of peace is…near impossible."

"I'm sorry I've made it harder." Tears begin to stream down Santana's cheeks.  
"Please don't apologize for that, Santana." Brittany wipes her tears from her cheeks, then the lone tear on Max's face. "It'll be better soon."

"Is it terrible that I'm _aching_ to go back to work? I've got everything in the world right here in this house, and yet…I just can't wait to get in the operating room. I need to cut something open. I need to _heal_ someone, so I don't feel like such a damn failure."

"I don't think it's terrible. But, if you need to take an extra few weeks—"

"I really don't want to. I feel like it's been a hundred years since I was in the hospital, and that place was my _life_ , before this was. I want to go back at six weeks. I've been thinking of talking to Shelby, but I didn't want to do that until I talked to you."

"Thank you for that. If you think you'll be ready, I'm not going to tell you that I don't think you should go. I know how important it is for you to get back there."  
"The only time in my life I can guarantee that I won't be crippled by anxiety is when I'm in the OR. I…I'm insecure about a lot of things. Whether I'm a good wife, or a good mother, or a good _person_ , but I _know_ that I'm a good doctor. Maybe even a _great_ one. I think I need to feel that way, so I can get myself back on track. I feel like…I'm off balance, and I feel like shit saying it, because I _should_ be good at all those other things. I love you, I love our kids, so it's not _you_ , it's just…"

"I know, Santana." Brittany leans over and kisses her head. "And I know that me saying I think you're amazing doesn't change what goes on in your head. But promise me, please, if it's too much, you'll take another leave."

"Okay." Santana nods. "I promise. But these goddamn pills should be working by then…I'm still so pissed at myself that I didn't take them those few days. God, last time…"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Brittany murmurs, absently picking a string from Max's romper. She gets Santana, and Santana knows that, and appreciates it, more than she can ever know how to say.

"My second year of med school. I was studying for my finals, and I'd been awake for three days. The meds made me tired, so I went off them. I barely made it through my exams, before I was a crying, hysterical mess. I _know_ that it was combined with lack of sleep and stress, but Mercedes had to take me down to the ER at Bellevue, because I didn't want anyone at Columbia to find out about it. I was sedated, and slept it off at Mercedes' parents' house for like…four days. I never want to get to that point again, especially because I _knew_ enough about withdrawal symptoms to do that. I'm just…I don't know. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For going on about this again tonight. What a way to start the new year."

"Santana." Brittany gets up again, and grabs Santana one of her shirts so she can change out of her dress when she's done with Max. "I'm really happy we went out tonight. That's more than I expected this year, and I love that you arranged it."

"Why are you like this?"

"I love when you say that, you know." Brittany lays down on the bed, staring up at Santana.

"Why?"

"Because it reminds me of when we first started dating, and your eyes would sparkle every time I said something nice to you."

"I…you still make me sparkle."

"Do I?"

"So much." Santana confesses softly. "I…know that I'm crap with a lot of things, especially now, but…you do make me feel like I'm special. And I wish I could be the same with you."

"You are. You always have been. Honey, we work in a hospital. We have the most gossipy interns, and probably even more gossipy nurses. I heard all about you in the beginning, before you would let me get to know you. I heard how you slept with girls in bar bathrooms, and how you were kind of mean to everyone. So when I think about how you chose to be with me, to have something _real_ with me, it makes me feel like I'm something special."

"You are. You're…you're everything I don't deserve."

"You do though. You deserve so much happiness, and that's why I try so hard to give it to you."

"I _am_ happy, Britt. That's what so frustrating and hard to explain. I feel like such a goddamn wreck, and have this unshakable…anxiety and sadness, but…I'm also so happy with my life. God, that sounds so insane."

"I'm not going to pretend I understand it, but…I'd just really like to help you get through it."

"You are. You do, every day." Santana shakes her head and watches a sleeping Max unlatch and spread out across her arms, nose wrinkled, eyes scrunched. "Why me?"

"What?"

"Why did you want this all with me? I see the way people look at you. Men, women, they're like, totally infatuated with you at first glance. People who didn't rip their scrub top up to show you how fucked up they are inside and out. Why did you choose me?"

"Because I didn't want anyone else. I was engaged to a woman who was seemingly perfect, to everyone on the outside. She looked put together and attentive and loving to me. She never stopped smiling until we were home, and she'd show her jealousy and selfishness. You forget, Santana, she made me choose her or Liam." Brittany sighs, rubbing her thumb over Santana's exposed clavicle.

"It's just still so hard to believe that someone could Ido/I that. I might be fucked up, but I could never…"

"I know. Trust me, I know. But you…You've never pretended to be something you weren't. As much as you drove me crazy when I first started working at Columbia, you also intrigued me. There are so many fake people in the world, but you're not one of them. And you have the most amazing heart. I saw it with the conjoined twins, I saw it when you played with Liam on your office floor. I see it with _me_ , when you stop into my office with a coffee or a bagel, or just a kiss. You feel things really hard, and I consider myself lucky that I get to feel your love every day."

"I've been shit at showing it lately."

"You have, just a little." Brittany teases. "But I don't need bagels or coffee or even kisses to feel it. It's in your _eyes,_ Santana, even when you don't think it is."

"I miss making love to you." Santana confesses, kissing Max's head, and putting him beside Oliver in the bassinet. "It's been…too long."

"I miss it too." Brittany hands Santana her t-shirt, and Santana pulls her dress down her body, exposing the healing caesarean incision. "You're healing well."

"I was just looking at it this morning. At least something good came out of this scar."

"I think—" Brittany wriggles down the bed as Santana pulls her shirt over her head. She presses the softest kisses on Santana's stretched skin, avoiding the surgical wound—because they both know the last thing she needs to do is spread bacteria to it—and Santana weaves her fingers through Brittany's hair. "That I'm even more attracted to you now than I ever was before."

"Babe, you've got some _weird_ taste." Santana can't help but laugh, though her voice is thick with unshed tears.

"No." Brittany pulls down Santana's t-shirt to cover up her stomach, and slides back up so she lays facing Santana. "You've got battle scars, and battle scars are really sexy."

"I can't wait—" Santana kisses Brittany's lips over and over again, laying so her front is as closely pressed to Brittany's as it can be, without aggravating her healing cut. "Until I can feel you inside of me again. I can't wait until I have the strength to make you cry out my name."

"As much as I'm looking forward to that." Brittany kisses Santana's ear, and rubs her lower back. "I missed this intimacy even more. I missed holding you in my arms and kissing you just like this."

"I'm sorry I wasn't ready." Santana tucks her face into Brittany's neck, and feels that safe, loving warmth, the one that always engulfs her when she lets Brittany hold her close. "I'm sorry I was pushing away from you because I was so sick over feeling anything but scared as hell."

"You're here now, Santana. _We're_ here, and I'm not letting you go."


	70. Chapter 70

With the decision made to return to work, Santana schedules a meeting with Shelby. She knows that Shelby is going to make her get medically cleared before she can return to work, and she knows she's going to ask a million questions trying to make sure she's emotionally ready, so Santana prepares herself. She's not looking forward to it, not at all, but she'll say whatever she has to say to her boss to get back in the operating room.

The morning of her meeting, Santana wakes up a wreck. With either Max or Oliver up every half hour, and Liam coming into the room at four-am, her nerves are shot. She rolls out of bed, groaning at the tenderness of her nipples from near constant feedings, and she leaves Brittany asleep with the boys in order to get into the shower. With the water as hot as it can go, she soaks herself, gently massaging her breasts the way she used to do when the scar tissue was painful, and though she probably shouldn't, she expresses some milk so she's a little more comfortable.

When she gets out, she stands at the bathroom counter, and she blow dries her hair, spending exponentially more time on it than she has since before she first went on bedrest. It takes her nearly an hour to straighten it, and when she begins putting her makeup on, she can hear Liam talking to Brittany in the bedroom. Deeply, she inhales, mentally preparing herself for the day ahead of her, mentally preparing herself to take things as they come, and not be sent into tears by every minor thing she faces.

By the time she goes back into the bedroom, it's empty. Brittany is good, so good, and she's sure she's already downstairs making breakfast. For Brittany, maternity leave has been spent really savoring her extra time with the boys, and every moment of every day, Santana is grateful to have married such an amazing woman. Slowly, Santana gets dressed, slipping into her pantyhose and a skirt, and buttoning up a soft yellow blouse. Though she'd dressed up for her date with Brittany on New Year's Eve, this is the first time she's looked like _Dr. Lopez_ in months, and when she looks in the mirror, she's surprised that she doesn't feel as comfortable in those clothes as she should.

Downstairs, Liam is sitting in his seat at the table, and Brittany stands in her pajamas at the stove making eggs, with Max and Oliver in their matching seats at her feet. It's a beautiful sight, Santana thinks, and when Brittany turns around with the spatula in her hand, she manages a soft smile. Though the nagging in the back of her head tells her that _this_ should be enough, for someone like Santana, who struggles persistently with her identity, she needs to get back to the root of who she is. She needs to talk to patients' families, she needs to walk the halls of Columbia Presbyterian as a doctor, not a mother, she needs to scrub her hands and snap on her gloves and _heal,_ both her patients and herself.

"You look nice." Brittany nods from the stove, and Santana's cheeks warm.

"Thanks…My regular clothes still don't fit me." She sighs a little. "And these maternity clothes are kind of big. I need to go shopping before I go back to work, I guess."

"Take the day, if you need it, Santana. Go out after your meeting, if you want to. I've got things under control around here."

"I know you do." Santana murmurs, feeling a sting of guilt that she certainly _doesn't._ "I'll see how I feel, I guess. I'm kind of sore this morning, and just…tired."

"I wish there was something I could do to make the night's easier on you." Brittany shakes her head. "I know last night was particularly brutal."

"All you can eat Mommy buffet, apparently." Santana bends down to kiss Max and Oliver, then goes to the table to look at what Liam is coloring. "I'm sorry, I'm not complaining, I'm just…shot."

"You got shot, Mommy Noodle?" Liam looks up at her with wide eyes. "Oh no!"

"No, Sir. I didn't mean to scare you. I mean I'm just very tired." She soothes, ruffling his hair. "And I love your picture."

"It's my babies! See! That's Maxie, and that's Ollie!" He points emphatically, and Santana smiles.

"I do see, and I love it. Maybe we can hang it up in their room?"

"Okey! Okey! I can finish it!" Liam goes back to coloring intently, and Santana walks back over to the stove.

"Hi, good morning, this is me not complaining for one second of my life." Santana kisses Brittany's lips, and let's them linger there. "I love you."

"I love you too, Santana. So much. Are you ready for today?"

"I mean…it should just be a formality. I can't do _anything_ until after my appointment with Roz next week anyway, but…I just need to be prepared."

"I get that. And I know you're anxious to get back."

"I feel like a horrible mother still. We have the means that I could stay home with them another six months, a year…until they go to kindergarten." Santana sighs.

"Just because we have the means doesn't mean it's what's right for us, or for _you._ We have the means that I could stay home too, Santana, but I don't want to, so you shouldn't feel like _you_ are doing something wrong by wanting to go back to work."

"I know…I know…I do. I'm just…nursing, and hormonal, and…whatever else. I'm sorry."

Before Brittany can respond to her, Oliver wakes up and begins to cry in his seat. It's still so jarring for Santana, and before she can lift him up and into her arms, she feels the familiar wetness soaking through her shirt. It frustrates her to no end, the complete inability she has to control her bodily functions, and she chastises herself for forgetting the nursing pads in her bra, and soiling yet _another_ one of her shirts with breastmilk.

"Goddamnit." She mutters, tugging at her buttons and ripping the shirt off, before she undoes her bra and lets Oliver nurse. She hates nursing standing, and hates that she's irritated while he's eating, and she hates that she's _probably_ going to be late for this meeting because she spent too much time on her hair and makeup, and didn't allow herself a cushion to feed a baby for what feels like the thousandth time since midnight. "Okay, Ol, you've got it, shhh."

"Let me run up and get you another shirt, honey. I know you're on a time schedule."

"Thank you." Santana doesn't argue, she just sinks down into a chair with Oliver, and throws her head back. "Thank you."

By the time Brittany comes back down with a clean shirt for her, Max has woken up, and Santana has him on her other breast. She's sweating a little, but she practices breathing deeply, practices being present with her babies, practices remembering that she's a human being. Liam talks to her as she nurses, and he helps her recognize that too. To stay engaged with him is so vitally important to her, and she's so thankful to have that sweet little boy in her life. She wants time with just him, as soon as she can manage it, she wants him to know that even though Max and Oliver depend on her right now for food, that he's no less important to her. She'll get there, she knows she'll get there, she just…has to get through things one day at a time.

When they finally finish nursing, Santana trades Max and Oliver for the breast pads in Brittany's hand, and tucks them down into her bra, hoping they prevent any further leakage while she's on the peds floor of the hospital, and there's bound to be another baby crying. She slips into her clean shirt, and she smoothes it down in the front. Kissing Liam goodbye first, she murmurs to him that she'll bring him a treat home, and then she kisses the twins, followed by Brittany's lips. Tenderly, Brittany tucks her hair behind Santana's ear, then kisses her forehead lovingly.

"Good luck, Santana. I love you."

"I love you too, Britt. I'll call you after and just…let you know what I'm going to do."

"Whatever you need, honey. We'll be here, doing our thing."

With one final glance behind her, Santana grabs Brittany's car keys and leaves the house. She's glad she can at least drive herself again, and when she gets behind the wheel, she takes another deep breath before she heads down to the hospital. The winds whip between buildings, and even in the car, she feels a chill from it. The sky is grey, and she can feel impending snow on the horizon, but she's glad to be out of the house for a while, glad to recompose herself when she's not in the presence of her wife and children.

She finds Brittany's spot in the parking structure, and she rushes inside the hospital, avoiding as much of the bitter cold as she can. By the time she makes it to the elevator, ten different people have greeted her, and she gives a tight smile and short answers about how she's feeling, how Brittany is doing, and hope the kids are in response. The peds floor is, of course, even more intense, and though she bristles, she accepts the hugs that are given to her, but is relieved when she finally makes it to Shelby's office. The door is open, and once she's waved inside, Santana shuts the door behind her, and takes the seat across from Shelby's desk.

"Good morning, Santana. It's so good to see you back at my desk. How are you feeling?"

"It's been almost six weeks, so…I'm just about ready to come back to work."

"I wasn't asking about medical time frames. I was genuinely asking how you were doing."

"Better than I was." Santana shrugs. "I'm almost healed, my sons are both home. So, I really have no reason to complain."

"And you feel well?" Shelby clicks the back of her pen against her desk, and Santana feels her eyes boring into her.

"Why are you looking at me like you're my therapist?"

"I'm looking at you as a concerned friend. Santana, we both know the trauma that parents of sick children—"

"Oliver isn't sick." She snaps.

"He wasn't well when he was born. The feelings you have about that don't just disappear when a child comes home."

" _Really_ didn't come here for a therapy session, _Dr. Corcoran._ I think you're way overstepping."

"As Dr. Corcoran, perhaps I am. But I was speaking to you as _Shelby._ I'm asking you to be honest with me so I can adjust your schedule to fit your needs right now. Your job isn't going anywhere, Santana, no matter how much time you need to take off."

"I don't _need_ any more time off. What I need is to get back to my career. I need accommodations to pump, which we have, and I'd prefer to be on days at least for the first few months. That's it. I'm telling you, I'm fine."

"If Dr. Washington gives you medical clearance, there's nothing I can do to stop you from coming back to work. But I'd like the assurance that if these accommodations aren't working, you'll come to me, and we'll adjust things."

"I'm a good doctor, Shelby."

"No, you're a _great_ doctor, and from what limited experience I've had with you and your children, I'd venture to say you're a great mother too. That's why I want to help you balance it. When I adopted Beth, I wasn't given an opportunity to find that balance, and I promised myself I'd never put my staff in a similar position. This isn't preferential treatment for you because I consider you my friend, Santana, nor because I was one of your son's attending physicians during his stay here. This is department policy."

"I want to come back to work full time."

"Okay." Shelby nods, closing the file in front of her. "Then as soon as you're cleared, you'll be back on the schedule."

Santana isn't sure why, but when she leaves Shelby's office, she feels incredibly frustrated. It's like…everyone is just expecting her to fall apart at any given moment, and while she wants to prove that she _won't,_ she knows that is a very real possibility she'll fail at that, and the idea of it makes her insane. Rather than go home, where she knows she should go, where she knows she should _want_ to go, Santana takes Brittany up on her offer, and she goes to Bloomingdales. Though the cold and almost-snow makes it the absolute worst possible day for it, Santana just needs some more time. She needs to decompress, she needs to not walk into the house feeling _frustrated_ with absolutely everything.

Parking the car in the garage around the corner, Santana walks the floors of the store aimlessly. She's disgusted by the idea of trying on clothes in the dressing room—she always has been, that's no new—so she buys things she'll probably return, and then she walks around some more. She picks up things that she might want to buy Brittany for her birthday, and then puts them down again, deciding that nothing is good enough, deciding that she can't possibly express her love with a stupid pair of boots or a coat. So she walks again, until her breasts begin to ache, and she knows she's past the time she should have gone home.

It's snowing when she leaves, and Santana hates to drive in bad weather. Briefly, she considers leaving the car in the garage and taking a cab home, but the idea of having to get it tomorrow overwhelms her, and she knows that if she tells Brittany, _she'll_ go, and then Santana will feel like shit about it. So she drives, gripping the wheel tightly, and gritting her teeth. When she finally arrives home, she breathes a sigh of relief, glad to be off the roads, glad to empty her aching breasts, glad to see her family.

When she goes inside, Santana finds Brittany and the boys asleep on the living room couch. In the time she's known her, Santana is certain she's never seen Brittany Pierce nap. Even when she works night shifts, Santana _swears_ that she just stays awake all day, and never really stops moving. It's cute to see her like that though, Liam curled up beside her, and both babies sound asleep on her chest. It makes Santana's heart ache. It makes her wish she could lay beside them, hold them all close, love them in the way they deserve to get her love.

Though Santana _really_ needs to get a baby on her to nurse, she doesn't have the heart to wake them up. Instead, she changes her clothes, and she goes into the kitchen to start putting something together for dinner. It's early, but the snow is starting to come down more heavily, and she just wants it done, so they can start a fire and relax as a family. She's just finished stuffing the chicken when she hears Oliver begin to cry—she's finally able to distinguish the babies' cries—and she feels her overly full breasts start to leak again. Leaving the chicken on the counter, she scrubs her hands, and she goes back into the living room, seeing Brittany soothe him as she tries to keep the other two boys asleep.

"I didn't even hear you come in." Brittany murmurs, looking up at Santana. "How long have you been home?"

"Half hour?" She shrugs. "You guys looked really comfy, so I didn't wake you up."

"I didn't realize how tired I was until they all fell asleep."

"Long night last night." Santana yawns, and leans down to take Oliver, before sitting down in the big chair with him.

"You should take a nap. I was going to go to Whole Foods and make sure that we're all stocked up for the blizzard."

"Is it a blizzard now?"

"Blizzard watch, but I'd rather be prepared in case."

"Stay in." Santana shakes her head, urging Oliver, who is reluctant to latch on. "There's plenty of food in the house, and we still have like…three cases of water from when my mom went to Costco. The roads were already starting to get bad, and I don't want you to go."

"Okay." Brittany concedes quickly. "If you think we're okay. We have that chicken in there for dinner, right?"

"Already ready to go in the oven." Santana smiles, feeling a strange sense of pride in herself that she managed to do something human. "And the potatoes are in water on the stove."

"You didn't have to do that, Santana. I could have."

"Britt, you've cooked dinner almost every night since I went on bedrest. I really _want_ to cook tonight. I just…want to get back on a routine, I think."

"How did your meeting go?"

"It was…" Santana tries to hide her involuntary grimace. "It was fine. Shelby was just, like, trying to act like a therapist. I don't _need_ that. I just need to be cleared for surgery, I need to be back in the hospital. I need to go back when you do, because if I don't, I'm going to go _insane_ sitting here. I know that sounds awful…"

"No, I get it. You've been out much longer than I have, and even I'm getting a little stir-crazy here. It's not indicative of our motherhood. I believe it's intrinsically tied to it. We have three little boys, and they get to see the two strong women who raise them _kind of_ kick ass."

"We do kind of kick ass." Santana laughs. "Hey, I miss being in surgery with you. It feels like it's been a hundred years."

"It has been a long time since we've done one together. I'm grateful that you haven't had any kids who have _needed_ me, but I do enjoy operating beside my wife."

"Because I play Fleetwood Mac in the OR, obviously."

"Oh, obviously." Brittany rubs Max's back, and Santana sees Liam begin to stir. "You seem happy today."

"I really _wasn't_ for the whole morning. Shelby pissed me off when she started talking to me like a patient, but…coming home to this really cute pile of the people I love most in the world made me feel better."

"She's just concerned about you, Santana."

"Did you _tell_ her I was…whatever?"

"I would never." Brittany looks hurt at the assumption, and Santana immediately feels bad. "No matter what, I would never say anything to anyone that would put you in a bad situation at work."

"God, sorry." Santana runs her hand through her hair. "I know you wouldn't. I just…it's hard for me knowing that everyone at the hospital knows _so much_ of my business because I had them there. I mean, tip of the iceberg, but two of my scrub nurses saw my vagina. I feel like my privacy is just…gone. And now Shelby was kind of talking to me like a patient, and it's a lot."

"I understand that." Brittany nods. "Not that it's the same, but I had an appendectomy at Brigham, and it was weird for me for a few weeks."

"I just don't want them to look at me with…pity, I guess? Like, yeah, I had twins kind of early, one of them had to be in the NICU, but they're _fine. I'm_ fine. I want to just be fucking Dr. Lopez when I go back to work."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing." Santana shakes her head. "It's fine, I'm just venting, and I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Do you want to talk about how Max was blowing bubbles for like twenty minutes, and Liam couldn't stop laughing instead?"

"Yes." She smiles a little. "I would absolutely love to talk about that instead."

For the next half hour, it's just Brittany, Santana and Oliver who are awake, and Santana relishes the quiet, letting Oliver try to lay on his stomach on the floor. He doesn't like it much, always getting frustrated after a few minutes, but she forces herself not to pick him up immediately. She has such an instinct to protect him from discomfort, but she tells herself that he needs to gain strength, needs to attempt the things they're doing with Max. So she leaves him, until he starts to cry, and then she gathers him back into her arms, watching Liam wake at the sound of it.

"Shhh! Baby! I'm sleepin' okey?"

"Oh, Li." Brittany smiles and ruffles his hair. "I think Ollie knows it's _really_ time for us to wake up. Guess what? Mommy told me that it's snowing outside."

"Mommy Noodle's home? It's snowing? Yes! Yes! Yes! I can wake up now!" He wriggles out from beside Brittany, and runs to Santana, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Hi! Why's Ollie cryin'?"

"Oliver doesn't like being on his belly very much, remember?"

"Ollie! Remember? I showed you about being on my belly and wigglin'! It's fun!"

Continuing to cry, Oliver turns his head from Liam, and Liam looks simply crestfallen. It's taking him time to comprehend that the twins don't understand him yet, and that their slights are definitely not a reflection of how much they love him. It's hard sometimes for Santana to watch, particularly because she hasn't been as attentive to her oldest son as she had been before they came, but she tries to hard to be everything everyone needs her to be, even when she's falling apart inside.

"It's okay, Sir, he's just a little cranky right now. But he'll get happier soon, and _maybe,_ if you wanted, I could take you outside to see the snow in a little bit?"

"Me and you in the snow? Yes! Yes! Yes! Mama! Mommy Noodle is gonna play with me in the snow!"

"That sounds really special." Brittany smiles at him, as Max stretches his arms above his head on her chest and grunts. "Maybe Max and Oliver will be want to be bundled up and come outside too."

"They can come outside?" Liam's eyes widen, and he claps his hands. "I can show them the snow?"

"You can." Santana chokes out, though her chest seizes in panic at the thought of the twins, especially Oliver, in the bitter cold. "But just for a minute, okay? It's really cold out there."

"Okey! Babies, I can show you the snow _very_ fast, and then we can come inside and have hot chocolate!"

"Hot chocolate, huh?" Santana manages an easier laugh. "Who said anything about hot chocolate?"

"I buyed it with Mama the other day! We can have some!"

"We can definitely have some. How about you get your snowpants from your room, and we get you all dressed?"

"Okey, Mommy Noodle! Okey!"

Liam runs up the stairs, and Santana switches babies with Brittany. Max nurses hungrily, and Santana sighs a little, running her fingers through his soft curls. She looks up at Brittany, and sees a face of concern.

"Are you okay, Santana?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine…I'm just. It's really cold, and I'm like, I don't know. They haven't even left the house since we brought them home."

"I know they haven't, and I know that you're afraid to take them out."

"Maybe if they'd been born in the summer…"

"Honey." Brittany stands up from the couch, and perches on the edge of the chair where Santana sits. "No matter when you would have had them, it would have been scary to bring them out into the world. I remember when I brought Liam home for the first time, and I felt exactly the same way. On top of having no idea how to be a mother, I had this toddler with fresh grafts, and a world out there with so many germs. I stayed in with him until I had to go back to work, and every day, I swear, _I_ became increasingly afraid of the outside. I don't want to do that again."

"Doing this for the first time is really hard for me, Brittany. Not just taking them outside, but…being a _mom._ I've gotten to have so many firsts with Liam in the time I've had him, but…they're not as scary as these."

"I know that Liam had his surgery before he was _legally_ yours, and that it wasn't his first surgery. But the thing I remember most about that day was your strength. I think that the night before, when you asked to be brave for me, I fell so much more in love with you."

"I can't even believe we're comparing Liam's surgery to fucking going outside." Santana shakes her head, embarrassed. "This is absolutely ridiculous. I'm being ridiculous."

"I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just wanted to remember that you've been part of his scary things too. I think we should take them out, Santana, I do. But I'm not going to push it if you're not ready. I get it, it's cold, it's snowing."

"No. I mean, it's fine. We bought those stupid snow suits that we really didn't need, and those kangaroo jackets. Liam never lasts very long, before his arm starts to bother him anyway. And at least with no people around, there'll be no germs."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah." Santana swallows hard. "I'm sure."

When Liam comes back with his snow pants, Santana watches Brittany settle Oliver into his seat, and begin to help him get dressed. As soon as his boots are on, Liam stomps around excitedly, and Santana anxiously awaits the end of Max's typically long feeding so that she can make sure he's completely dry, and bundle him up as tightly as she can. Brittany leaves her with all three boys to go upstairs, and when she comes down again, she has the twins' warm clothes, as well as hers and Santana's.

Carefully, Santana changes Max out of his wet diaper, and is much slower in getting him into his fleece one piece than Brittany is with Oliver. They snap hats on them both, and finally, once they're zipped into their matching grey snow suits, Santana lets Brittany help her into her always-too-big snowpants, and for her own reassurance, puts Oliver in the carrier on her chest before zipping into her kangaroo jacket that lets his little head poke out.

Once Brittany does the same with Max, she zips Liam's coat, and Santana takes slow, steady breaths. It took her enough time to venture out of the house alone, and now, in the same day, she's conquering such a deep personal fear. All the wants in the world is to keep her children safe, all she wants is to never be the cause of something that harmed them again—since she still hasn't moved past blaming herself for everything that happened to Oliver—and sometimes it feels like the easiest way to do that is just to keep them shut up in their safe little house. The place where it's warm, and they have a sprinkler system and carbon monoxide detectors and an alarm system and two surgeon moms who can do CPR and first aid in their sleep.

"Hey." Brittany takes Santana's gloved hand in her own, as she opens the front door. "I love you."

"Me too." Santana murmurs in response, feeling the gust of cold air and blast of snow on her face. "I'm still okay."

"Are you sure? Because I can give you Max right now, and I'll take Liam out."

"No, I promise, I'm good. I'm trying to not be crazy, and this is like…baptism by fire. It _is_ pretty out though, isn't it?"

"Not as pretty as you." Brittany cheeses, and even through her laugh, Santana's cheeks heat up.

"That was really cheesy, baby."

"Still made you blush though, didn't it?" Brittany gets both Liam and Santana to the bottom step, then kisses Santana's cheek.

"Maybe a little." She turns her head so she catches Brittany's lips. "Well, we've made our first family outing…to the curb."

"Mama! Mommy Noodle! I can't pick up the snow with these mittens on me!"

"There's not very much to pick up right now, Sir. We might have to wait until morning for that. Right now, we just came out so you can see what it looks like coming down."

" _And_ for you to do this." Brittany tilts her head up and sticks out her tongue. "Can you do that, Li?"

"Mama! You're eatin' the snow!"

"I am, and it's cold and delicious! Try it."

"Okey, Mama! Mommy Noodle, you try too!"

Unwilling to deprive Liam of his excitement, Santana cradles the back of Oliver's hat covered head, and she tilts her head up, closing her eyes. For just a moment, as flakes catch on her tongue, she feels like she's transported back in time. She remembers standing on the playground at school, her safe place, bundled up in the pea coat that pinched beneath her chin, leaning back and catching the snowflakes on her tongue. She remembers feeling magic in a world that otherwise felt too heavy to a little girl. She remembers how they tickled her lashes, and how she'd laugh. She remembers it, and she opens her eyes again, feeling her littlest son close to her heart, her biggest twirling as he catches his own flakes, her middle strapped to her wife's chest, and Brittany, standing at her side with a bright, beaming grin that tells her everything is going to be okay.


	71. Chapter 71

The day before Brittany's forty-first birthday, Santana has her six week postpartum visit with Roz. Like with nearly everything in her life of late, she's a nervous wreck about it. What if she isn't healed properly? What if a surgical tool has been stitched up inside her body? What if she has some gangrenous infection that is silently eating her from the inside out? What if, worst of all, Roz won't clear her to go back to work?

Truth be told, Santana is glad that Brittany's maternity leave hasn't ended yet either, because as much as she knows that she _could_ go alone to this appointment, there's a certain comfort in having her wife there with her. So she asks her mom to watch the kids. They've been doing so more and more lately, adjusting to when she'll be watching them regularly when they go back to work, and Santana knows that it's good for all of them. Her mom loves the kids, it gives her something to do, an opportunity to just simply love her grandchildren, without the authoritarian eye of her former husband constantly watching over her. And the kids love her mom. Liam can't get enough of her attention, and even the twins calm in her presence.

Santana is quiet on the way to the hospital. She feels like she's quiet more than not lately, but she's trying. Her mind is a constant swirl of worst case scenarios, but rather than burden Brittany with them, she takes the advice of her psychiatrist, and on top of religiously taking her medication, she learns to breathe again, and she closes her eyes frequently, counting each and every thing she's grateful for. It's working, she thinks, in some small way, and for that reason, she's going to continue to do it in hopes that someday, somehow, it'll make her better.

Though she's still perturbed by Shelby, after Brittany goes to her office to gather some papers—having worked extensively from home, at least on some administrative tasks and research—Santana finally goes back to her own. When she unlocks the door, she breathes some strange sort of relief, enjoying the smell of the place she's been so proud to call her own, since the day she became an attending surgeon. While she doesn't really have anything to _do_ in there, she collects some of the research she was working on before she'd gone out, and figures if nothing else, maybe she can at least look over it before she jumps right back into the frying pan of her job.

When the time ticks closer to Santana's appointment, they make their way up to Roz's office. Being in there makes her feel a strange sort of antsy, and Brittany lays her hand open, letting Santana take it when she's ready. She doesn't hesitate to do so, holding it in her lap, and looking around at the empty room. That's one thing she's always grateful for, how Roz lets them come at off hours, how she doesn't have to check her facial expressions and reactions because other people are around her.

"You okay?" Brittany kisses the side of Santana's head, and murmurs against her skin.

"Yeah. Just…weird to be back here I guess. I feel like…the last however many times I was in this office, I kept getting shitty news."

"You're healing really well, Santana. We both know how well your incision has healed, and you've stopped bleeding."

"I know. I do. I'm just stupidly paranoid about this whole thing with Shelby."

"Honey, I love you so much, and your feelings are completely valid, but before you go back to work, you're going to have to let the issues you have with her go. I _know_ you felt attacked, but I also know that you know her, and you know how much she cares about you."

"I get that, I guess. It's just like…I don't know, sometimes with the way I've been feeling, I think I should have given birth somewhere else. But then…I feel like shit thinking about it, because Roz and Holly and Shelby probably saved Oliver's life."

"I get that feeling. You want to go back to being a doctor here, you don't want to be a patient."

"Yeah." She nods, sighing. "Kind of sucks when your boss has to get called into the operating room while you're cut open on the table."

"Have you spoken to Holly?" Brittany diverts the topic gently, and Santana exhales sharply.

"I keep meaning to. It's just…something always comes up when I mean to call her…"

"Maybe you should try. It might make you feel better to hear some of her…Hollyisms."

"She is good at those." Santana laughs. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping more than ever that she calls me in on another one of her cases."

"Because of Oliver?"

"Yeah…I guess I just want to pay it forward, or something dumb like that. I don't know…"

"You still love neonatology." Brittany notes softly, and Santana nods.

"It's not something I can pursue right now though. Maybe in…five years or something, when all the boys are in school."

"I know I told you this when you were pregnant, but if it's something you want to do before that point, we can make it work."

"Right now, I know I'm not in the right frame of mind to make any decisions like that." Santana shakes her head. "But thank you."

"Dr. Lopez, Dr. Pierce." Roz steps out from the back, and Santana stands up, inhaling deeply.  
"Come on back."

Santana doesn't bother with the pleasantries when she gets back there. While Roz is dealing with her chart, she changes into her robe, and she climbs up on the exam table. As Roz does the exam, she closes her eyes. She's so freaked out by the idea that something could possibly be wrong, and she can hardly breathe, and she focuses all her energy on Brittany's hand. She focuses it all on her breathing. Anxiety crashes over her in waves, but she needs to keep breathing, she needs to get through this, she needs to not have a complete breakdown while Roz Washington's hand is inside of her vagina.

"So." Roz takes her gloves off and washes her hands, and Santana scoots back on the examination table. "How have you been feeling, Santana?"

"Well, I've stopped bleeding, and I'm not sore anymore. I nursed through mastitis two weeks ago, but everything seems to be back to normal there."

"And other than that, breastfeeding is going well?"

"Yeah." Santana nods slowly. "They're on…not a great schedule with each other, so I'm up most of the night, but…the actual feeding is fine. They seem to be content, so I guess I'm making enough milk."

"Glad to hear that. A lot of people have more trouble with twins."

"I just…refused to allow myself to give it up. I'm gong to pump when I go back to work. The hospital mandates that I have time, and I'll work it out with my surgeries."

"You're ready to go back to work?"

"Why does everyone say that like I'm insane?"

"Hey, I was asking a medical question, I wasn't making a judgment. If you're ready to go back to work, you're ready to go back to work. I know _I_ wouldn't be able to stay away, so why would I judge you?"

"Sorry…I'm just…sorry."

"Do you feel more irritable than usual? Again, medical question, not a judgement."

"I…yeah, I mean, I'm not really sleeping, and it's been hard after everything with Oliver." Santana finds herself answering honestly. "I'm getting back on track. I've seen my psychiatrist, and I've adjusted my meds. I'm doing what I have to do."

"That's what I need to hear. Are you overwhelmed?"

"I'm just…a lot of things, honestly."

"I have your medical history, so I'm aware that you suffer from an anxiety disorder. Everything that's said in this room in between us. I know that most of the time, doctors in this hospital are afraid to share things about their emotional state with me, but you don't have to worry that it'll go beyond this room."

"I know the rules." Santana mutters, and Brittany squeezes her hand. "But really, the medication change is helping. Once I start sleeping again, I'll be fine. I have my sons, I have my wife, I have a lot to be okay about."

"Alright." Roz closes the file, and Santana drops her head back, sighing.

"Am I done?"

"You're done. Look, you don't really have a medical reason to see me after this, but just know that I'm here if you need to talk about anything postpartum related. I'll write your medical clearance for work, and you can safely resume normal activities, including sexual activity when you feel ready for that. You know your body better than I do though, so don't push yourself."

"Yeah…I won't. Listen, thanks, Roz…for everything. You helped save my babies, and I'll always be grateful for that."

Santana drives home from the appointment. She feels like she _has to,_ and Brittany doesn't argue. She simply sits in the passenger seat, and she makes her hand available for when Santana wants to take it. It's a small comfort, but it means more than Santana can express, and when she pulls up in front of the house, she still has a tight grip on the hand that constantly grounds her, no matter how hard things are.

"I love you, Britt." She murmurs, kissing the back of her hand.

"I love you too, Santana. So much more than you know."

Max is crying when they walk into the house—Santana has become so in tune with which of the babies it is—and she quickly goes to her mother, scooping him into his arms. When he doesn't quiet, she quickly gives him to Brittany, who never fails in settling their children. It amazes Santana every time, and she sits back, letting Liam crawl into her lap and hugging him close, while Brittany walks around with the baby, singing softly to him. Oliver sleeps in his seat in front of her, and it pangs Santana sometimes just how much he sleeps, like he's still resting from his trauma at birth.

Their night at home is quiet, after Maribel leaves, and it snows again. Santana is a little jumpy, thinking about her return to work, thinking about how everything went well with Roz, thinking about how she just wants to feel _normal_ again, so she's not _perpetually_ jumpy. But she's focusing on the weekend, she's focusing on Brittany's birthday, she's focusing on the fact that she just wants it to be something low key and at home—probably so Santana doesn't get stressed out about things—and she's focusing on the biggest thing, the one she almost forgot, their first wedding anniversary.

At bed time, neither of them bring up sex. If Santana is telling the truth, she's not quite sure if she's ready, and because Brittany knows her so well, she simply takes Santana into her arms, presses her chin to her shoulder, and lets her fall asleep just like that, safe and protected. It's what Santana needs, as much as she _wants_ to want sex, and she doesn't feel quite the level of guilt that she had expected to, being unable to bring herself to do something she's been waiting months for.

When Santana wakes up in the morning, after three night feedings, Liam is on Brittany's side of the bed scream-singing _Happy Birthday._ As much as Santana would like to groan at having the first restful sleep she's had all night interrupted, Liam looks so cute that she can't even be frustrated with him. For her part, Brittany rolls over and kisses him right between the eyes, grin spreading across her face as she shuffles to sit up and lift him into bed with them. The twins are still sleeping, and there's something about just the two of them and Liam that makes Santana inordinately happy.

"Mama! Today we's gonna have hot dogs, and play in the park, and make a fire, and eat cake, and open presents, and eat more hot dogs…"

"This sounds more like _your_ birthday plans than mine." Brittany laughs. _"Maybe_ only hot dogs one time, instead of two."

"Why only one?" Liam wrinkles his nose, and Brittany kisses him again. "Hi Mommy Noodle."

"Good morning, Sir." Santana smiles, propping her head up on her hand and meeting Brittany's lips for a kiss. "Good morning, babe. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, honey. As much as I _loved_ our trip last year, I think now, having you as my wife, and having all three of our kids, I think this is going to be the best one ever."

"So I didn't have to try to top Mexico? Because I wracked my brain for a week, and just couldn't come up with anything."

"Mexico was amazing for forty. But for forty-one, I think I like the idea of hot dogs, a fire, and the park."

"And cake, Mama! And cake, okey?"

"Cake! How could I forget cake?" Brittany shakes her head, eyes glistening. "We'll definitely have to have cake."

"For breakfast?"

"I don't know about for breakfast, Li. But maybe Mommy will let me take you all out to the diner, and we can have waffles and ice cream."

"Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!"

"It's your birthday, Britt, aren't I supposed to be taking you?"

"Nope, my birthday, my rules, and I want to take _you._ If you're up for it."

"Yeah…I'm totally up for it."

It takes a long time getting everyone ready to leave, once Max and Oliver are up and fed, and it makes Santana even more grateful that when she goes back to work on Monday, her mom will come to the house. The idea of getting everyone dressed and ready for a seven-am shift makes her a little dizzy, so knowing she doesn't have to is calming. Rather than deal with the car, Brittany gets out the double stroller, and with the twins bundled up inside, they walk down to the diner, Liam skipping along at Santana's side.

"Watch the ice, Li." Brittany warns, and he quickly cuddles into Santana, remembering, as they all do, how scary it was when he fell at the baby shower. "Thanks, baby boy."

They get to the diner, and Santana sets Liam up in a booster seat, while Brittany settles the twins' stroller at the end of the table. They're sound asleep, and Santana cuddles in beside Brittany, holding her hand on the bench between them. It feels so _normal_ to have her family out like this, and she breathes a heavy sigh of relief. While her head is still in chaos, she craves every bit of normalcy she can find, and watching Liam blow bubbles in his milk cup, watching Brittany gently scold him, gives her that.

After breakfast, they walk around for awhile, Liam hanging on the stroller, getting tired and cranky. When they get home, he's half asleep, and Brittany carries him up for a nap, and Santana nurses the twins, before bringing them up to the bedroom and laying them side by side in the bassinet. With all three boys asleep, the house is quiet, and Brittany comes back downstairs, settling herself beside Santana on the couch.

"Hey." Santana murmurs, resting her head on Brittany's shoulder.

"Hi." Brittany strokes the back of her hand. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just…sorry I didn't do anything bigger for your birthday is all."

"This is all I wanted, Santana. I don't like that you keep worrying about it."

"You've just done so much to keep me sane these past few months, and I feel like…I don't know, like you deserve so much better than what I can offer you sometimes."

"You offer me so much. Every time I look at you, I'm so grateful that I married you."

"I haven't showered in like…three days. I'm not exactly looking like a catch right now."

"And yet, you're still the greatest catch. I think about it all the time, how lucky I am that you chose me. I had my heart broken my someone who couldn't accept that I was going to raise my nephew, and then you came along, and my having a son didn't bother you in the slightest."

"You having a son kind of won me over." Santana admits softly. "From the first time you left him in my office."

"You were really cute that night, playing with trains."

"He stole my heart before you did. I never could have imagined then that I'd have two more kids with you so fast, but as much as I'm overwhelmed by it all, I'm really glad I did."

"I know it hasn't been easy, but I also trust that you know yourself, and I think going back to work is going to be really good for you."

"Remember the first time you ever cut into someone? That rush, like you're going to save the world?"

"I do." Brittany nods, stroking Santana's hair.

"I need that rush. How terrible is it that I'm counting on an emergency surgery on Monday, since most of my day will just be meeting with patients?"

"I get it. You know my guilty pleasure is _Grey's Anatomy,_ no matter how factually inaccurate it is, but I _get_ when Derek Shepherd says 'it's a beautiful day to save lives.' It's a good feeling to walk into a room like a god."

"I'm getting back to my old self, Britt, but I think I'll just be so much better when I have that part of my identity back. Before I was a wife and a mother, I was a damn good doctor." Santana says, knowing she's said this a thousand times before. "It's been three months since I could be one. I don't know…"

"I know you had a rough pregnancy and gave up a lot. Whatever I can do to make the transition back easier for you, I'm here."

"I know you are, and it means _everything_ to me." Santana nods, taking a breath before she continues to speak. "Brittany?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry that I'm…not ready."

"Not ready?" Brittany's eyebrows furrow, and Santana sighs.

"Not ready for sex. I _miss_ that part of my relationship with you so much, I do. I just foresee myself crying and freaking out during it right now, and I don't want it to be like that. I thought maybe for our anniversary, I'd light a bunch of candles, and be waiting for you in the bedroom in lingerie with champagne, but the idea of myself on lingerie kind of makes me want to vomit, and I just…"

"Santana." Brittany cups both sides of Santana's face with her hands, looking into her eyes. "The idea of you in lingerie is incredibly sexy, no matter what you think of my body. I love every inch of you. I love your stretch marks, and your belly fat, and your leaking nipples. I love your beautiful face, and more than anything, I love your amazing heart and your brilliant mind. You're the sexiest woman I've ever met, and I look forward to the day I get to worship your body again. But everything about you will be even sexier to me when _you_ are ready for it."

"Why do you always know the right thing to say?"

"I don't. Sometimes I'm just not sure what will make you feel better or worse, so I just try to speak to you honestly. I _love_ our sexual relationship, and I know you've struggled with how to cope since Roz gave the order to stop, but her saying you're physically healthy doesn't mean anything."

"I wish I wasn't such an emotional wreck."

"I know." Brittany kisses her lips softly. "But you're making progress. And until then, I get to enjoy the best kind of intimacy with you. Holding your hands, kissing you like this, laying with you at night, watching you nurse Max and Oliver, and fuss over Liam, talking to you about my day…those thins mean the most to me."

"I really love you. I haven't said it enough in the past…I don't know how many months. But I do. More than I even know how to express. Today, I'm especially glad you were born, and tomorrow, I'm especially glad that you married me."

"Well." Brittany laughs, and Santana watches her eyes twinkle. "I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty glad for both of those things too."


	72. Chapter 72

The morning of Santana and Brittany's first day back to work is pure chaos in the house. Liam doesn't want them to go, and screams at the top of his lungs while they're trying to get ready, collapsing in fits on the bedroom floor. Max and Oliver, feeding off their big brother's frenetic energy, don't stop crying, and Santana ends up holding Max to her boob while she does her hair, and Brittany rocks Oliver while simultaneously pulling on pantyhose and trying to do her mascara.

Santana feels bad to leave her mother with such a handful, and her mommy-guilt sneaks up on her as she's trying to hug and kiss her crying sons goodbye. If it weren't for Brittany, gently urging her out the door, she may have caved, and put her tail between her legs to ask Shelby for one more day. But she doesn't. They manage to make it out of the house, and Brittany drives them to the hospital, keeping one hand on Santana's knee as she navigates morning traffic.

Inside the hospital, Santana kisses her wife goodbye, and she goes up to her office. Getting in there for her is like coming home, and she spreads out her files on the desk, preparing for the patient conferences she has scheduled for the morning. She has no surgeries on the board, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't hoping for something to come from the pit. She needs to get back in the operating room, she needs to _cut,_ and as she turns on her computer, she checks her pager, just in case.

"Hey." Mercedes appears at her door around eleven, just after she finishes scheduling a tonsillectomy with two _very_ nervous parents of a toddler. "Who's the best friend ever?"

"I mean, Kurt might fight you on this, but…since you're standing here, I'm going to say you?"

"Good answer. I need to put a vent in a twelve-year-old with myocarditis. Since I lost my intern for the day, I need a second. Are you in?"

"Oh my God, 'Cedes, seriously, I might be a little in love with you right now. I think even Britt would accept me declaring that. I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind waiting for something to happen today. You _know_ I hate paperwork, and that's all today has been. When are we doing this?"

"Pretty much _now._ Heyward had some kind of emergency, and she had to leave, so I'm scrambling at the last minute. How fast can you change and scrub in?"

"Shut the door, and I'll change _right now._ " Santana jumps up, _way_ more excited than she should be to do heart surgery on a twelve-year-old.

"Meet me downstairs in ten. I need to put your name in, and see the parents one last time."

"I'll be there."

Santana doesn't waste any time going into her bathroom and pulling off her slacks and blouse and shimmying into scrubs. The loose material feels good on her body, and she ties her hair up, before grabbing her _Wonder Woman_ scrub cap, and slamming her computer shut. She hates to admit it, but this is the most like herself she's felt in months. She _loves_ being a mother, she loves her children, but she's better at what she does when she gets to be a doctor too.

The smell of the scrub room settles her, and she leans over the sink, washing up to her elbows. A nurse hands her a towel, and she drys off, before listening to the familiar snap of her gloves as she puts them on. Mercedes comes up behind her, and Santana realizes how long it's been since they've been in the operating room together. She's missed this, doing surgery with her best friend, and she smiles, hopefully not too weirdly, when she looks at her.

"You don't know how much I needed this today."

"Oh, I do. I have been worried about you since you went on bedrest. We went through med school and our residency together, I know the OR is your happy place."

"Is that sick? I mean, there has to be something psychologically disturbed for me to be happy while slicing open someone's body, right?"

"Nah, I think that just makes you a surgeon, and a damn good one. You know how teachers suck when they hate their jobs? I think surgeons who don't feel a rush when they get in here suck even more. Come on, let's get you your high."

Blood rushes to Santana's head as she sees the patient on the table, and though she's just assisting, she sees the face of all three of her sons in the young adolescent who lays on the table. While surgery will make her a better mother, perhaps having the experience of almost losing a child will make her a better surgeon too. This child could easily be Liam, having some kind of experimental procedure done for the damage done to his body by the fire. He could easily be Max, with some ailment not yet known to them. He could easily be Oliver, needing something done to her brain. The feeling hits Santana hard and fast. This boy isn't just a means to give her a much needed rush. He's somebody's child. He's a person, whose life will be so much better for the work she does.

It's an easy surgery, and Mercedes can nearly do it in her sleep, but Santana is still more fastidious than she's ever been before. She does the incision, and she's cautious with it. She watches Mercedes put in the vent, and she eyes it carefully. She stitches him back up with a mother's tenderness, and she thinks, perhaps, she doesn't breathe until the machines tell her that _he's_ breathing normally. When he's brought to recovery, she feels _good,_ but she also feels like she wants to see Brittany. She wants to bring her coffee and wrap her arms around her. She wants to tell her that coming back here was everything she needed to finish healing.

She goes up to Brittany's office, and she's sitting at her desk on the phone. She's still dressed in scrubs from whatever morning surgery she did, and Santana smiles at the sight. She loves seeing Brittany like that, so casual, and Brittany waves her in, holding up a finger to tell her that she'll just be another minute. Making herself comfortable, Santana thinks that maybe she should have brought Brittany coffee, or a scone, or…something. But it's too late for that now, so she just sits and waits, smiling when Brittany hangs up the phone, and leans over the desk to kiss her lips.

"You're in scrubs." Brittany notes, winding her hand in Santana's ponytail.

"I just put in a vent with Mercedes."

"She's a good friend."

"She _really_ is. Britt, it felt so damn good to be back in the OR. Did you get, like, a total thrill this morning?"

"I always do." She smiles, sitting back down. "And it's been longer for you, so I'm sure it was overwhelming."

"I just feel good to be back. I'm a _surgeon._ It's tied to my identity or something. And I miss the boys like crazy, but being in that room under the lights…I'm not saying it was magic, because I've still got that anxiety thing in the pit of my stomach, and I've texted my mom probably twenty times today, but for an hour, I was breathing."

"I'm so glad for that, Santana. I think…if I wasn't a doctor, I wouldn't understand you on this level, and I'd think there was something I could have done so you didn't _need_ to be in surgery. But because I am, I do."

"Do you have time for coffee? Or, if you don't, I could go get you some…"

"I should take a lunch. I have back to back surgeries this afternoon, and if I don't sit and eat, I'll regret it. Do _you_ have time for that?"

"Yeah…I need to pump pretty soon, but I think I can sit and eat with you before I need to. It's weird, I'm so used to feeding on demand, but Jeeze, these things are _heavy._ "

"My office is more private than yours, honey. If you want to come back here after and sit in the nook, you know you can."

"Britt." A half-smile forms on Santana's face, her always melting from the thoughtful things that Brittany does, things anyone else wouldn't understand the depth of meaning to. "That really makes me feel better. I know free the nipple, and breast is best, and all of the stuff that people say, but I do feel like…I don't know, I don't want to look like the doctor who has to pump all day. You can probably _hear_ that thing outside of my office. So yeah, if you don't mind…"

"Santana, you can use my office whenever you want. I'll make you a key, if it will make you feel more comfortable. Make yourself a little setup."

"You really did score with that nook, you know, your office is even bigger than Sue's, and definitely…less terrifying."

"I'm an ace negotiator. I had Liam in here with me so many nights when I first started working here, and could never get out the door before I got caught up in paperwork. I wanted a place that would be comfortable, and I bargained a little for this one."

"Boy am I glad you did."

They go to lunch, and Santana is more talkative than she's been in months. She knows her body, and she knew that this would settle her, despite what everyone else worried about. It's been so difficult between her and Brittany, with the terrible postpartum blues creeping in, but today, it feels easy, today, they're laughing and joking. Today she feels like it won't be as long as she'd initially thought before she could resume sexual intimacy with her wife. It won't be tonight, or even tomorrow, but it will come. Her medication is helping, her healthy children are helping, and work…work is really helping her get to the point where she feels human again.

After lunch, Santana gets the breast pump and her mother's milk tea from her office, and while Brittany goes down to the OR, she sets herself up. The chaise that Liam used to sleep on is a much more comfortable place than the desk chair she'd pumped in a few hours earlier, and she leans back, sipping her tea and letting the pump do the work for her. She notices the same odd sense of letdown as the milk is expressed from her body as she did in the morning, but she lets it go. She knows that being apart from the twins is bound to be hard, she knows her body is designed to want them near, especially when there's milk coming out of it, but in a few hours she'll nurse them. In a few hours, she'll be more grateful than she has since the first moment she held each of them to have them in her arms.

Brittany loses a patient in the afternoon. When Santana comes back to her office after she finishes her day with patient consults, Brittany is sitting at her desk, staring off in to space. Though Brittany had texted her to tell her what happened, Santana is never prepared to see her wife so emotionally drained, and she goes to her quickly, wrapping her arms fully around Brittany's upper body, and letting her bury her face in her shoulder. They both know it never gets easier, and it's one of the reasons it makes being married to a doctor so beneficial. Santana _gets_ it, and she just takes Brittany's hand to help her up, after their hug is through, and she packs up her briefcase for her, letting her remain in her daze.

When they get home, Santana knows the kids are a good balm for Brittany's pain, and she scoops Liam up in her arms, kissing all over his puckered face, while Santana goes for Oliver. Max sleeps through it, and while Santana lets Ollie nurse, she smiles down at her sleeping boy, feeling such a strange mix of emotions to be home after that day. Brittany is quiet, but she takes her turn with Oliver, and then, while Santana orders pizza, she lifts a sleeping Max, and cradles him to her, feeling his sweet baby warmth.

When the kids are all settled in bed for the night, Santana goes to the kitchen and opens a bottle of red wine. She knows that before she was married, losing a patient meant cracking open a bottle of tequila, but she thinks red wine is the adult equivalent of that for Brittany. Pouring two glasses, she goes into the living room, where Brittany sits on the couch with her glasses on, pouring over a file from her briefcase. Santana sits down next to her, and gently puts her hand on her thigh, not telling her to put her work away, but just letting her know that she's there, if she's ready to talk.

"Hey." Brittany murmurs, putting the file back in its folder, and setting it down on the end table before she picks up the wine glass and takes a long sip.

"Hi, baby. Are you okay?"

"I'm…you know. I went into the surgery not thinking he'd survive, but, it still feels awful."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Santana takes a sip of her own wine, and then sets it back on the table.

"It was a chest reconstruction. A thirty-four year old father who was in a bad collision this morning on his way to work. His entire torso was crushed, and I just…walked in there ready to do whatever it took, but it wasn't enough."

"Oh, Britt."

"When you know it's a parent, it's tough. It reminds me of my own mortality. Anything could happen, and we have these three kids to take care of."

"I hate to think like that…"

"So did my sister." Brittany mumbles, finishing her wine in a second sip. "I think…we don't have a joint will, we haven't ever talked about a guardian for our children if something happens to us."

"Okay." Santana takes a breath, feeling a little sick to her stomach even thinking of this. "Okay."

"It scares me too." Brittany takes her hand, a tear running down her cheek. "But it scares me more to think of it not being taken care of. I just…wonder what will happen to that man's family, I wonder if his finances were in order, and how his funeral will be paid for. I need to know that we have that all taken care of, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I have an insurance policy from before we were married, I think, that I need to change the beneficiary on, and…I don't have a will at all. I guess I had just figured my mother would get everything. But now…yeah. We should do that."

"I've always been so prepared, but this whole last year has been a whirlwind. I'm so sorry I'm springing all of this on you tonight. God, you've been so looking forward to going back to work…"

"Hey, Britt. You get to have things too. I'm constantly breaking down, so if you need to panic about our death contingency plans tonight, that's fine, I'm here with you."

"I need to know that our kids are taken care of and accounted for, no matter what."

"We will. We'll go see the lawyer, and we'll work it out. As much as this really freaks me out to talk about, you're right." Santana gently puts her hands on Brittany's cheeks, and she kisses her lips, letting them remained pressed there. "I'm so sorry you had a day like this."

"Me too." She shakes her head. "For as much as I love my job, days like this make me almost wish I didn't have the power to take lives in my hands."

"Think of all the ones you've saved though. You're…a prolific surgeon, more than I could ever imagine being. People come from all over the _world_ to see you, and you just…make this huge difference in people's lives. These hands—" Santana kisses the inside of Brittany's palms, cherishing them. "Are amazing."

"Santana…"

"I mean that. For all the things I've experienced with plastic surgeons, and all the terrible things I've said, you've shown me the _amazing_ work you do. I've _watched_ you save lives. And I _know_ our gift feels like a mixed blessing on nights like this, but just think of all the people you've saved, and whose lives you made better just because you're the _best._ They're glad you do what you do, and so am I."

"You feel more and more like you every day." Brittany murmurs, changing the subject.

"I'm trying. Today was good…but it was also a little hard. I felt kind of guilty, because they're still so little, and Oliver has issues, and we make enough money that I didn't _have_ to go back to work today…you know, just dumb stuff like that."

"I know that I was a little…resistant to the idea of you going back to work so soon, but not because of them. I just wanted _you_ to be okay before you were in that high stress environment. But I think you need it. You're so anxious, Santana, and somehow, anxiety calms you down."

"It's so counterintuitive, I know, but a frenzy around me is the only think that makes me stop replaying everything over and over again in my head. Today, when I was in the OR, I just kept making lists of everything that a heart could possibly be doing, and I wasn't thinking of all the ways I could potentially fuck up our kids."

"For what it's worth—" Brittany puts her hand over Santana's. "I don't think you could ever fuck up our kids. Just watching you nurse is one of my favorite things, the sense of calm the boys get in your arms makes me fall more and more in love with you."

"I'm glad I'm pulling it together for them. I have a psychiatrist appointment again next week, and I think I can tell her that I'm leveling out on this new dose."

"I think so too. Do you…" Brittany looks off for a moment, considering her words. "Do you want me to wait to make an appointment with the lawyer until after you go, or do you think it's better to do it before, in case that triggers something?"

"I think…before is good, if we can do that. I don't think it's going to trigger me, but I just…don't know sometimes. Talking about worst case scenarios isn't great for me."

"I'm sorry I brought it up tonight. I just… _have_ to. I don't want everything to settle into the old contingencies in my will if something were to happen. I want the decisions we make about their future to be made together."

"I appreciate that a lot. I guess I have to start thinking more like a wife and mother, than just continuing to manage my future like I used to."

"It took me awhile too." Brittany gives Santana a small smile, and hugs her close. Santana can tell she needs to feel her at her side, so she contentedly settles in. "Are you tired?"

"It's like eight-thirty."

"Yeah…I know, but I also know one of the babies were up every forty minutes last night, before Liam came into our bed at two-am, _plus_ we just worked all day. I don't think it's crazy, especially when we have to do it all over tomorrow."

"Ugh. Don't remind me about the wake-ups. I'm barely sleeping in between, because I'm afraid taking my sleeping pills and not getting the straight eight hours is going to make me go all _Criminal Minds._ "

"You know if it's too much and you want to switch to formula…"

"I know, you said you'd do all the night feedings so I could take my pills and sleep. But I want to at least get to three months, then we can revisit it."

"Whatever you're comfortable with, honey. I just don't want you to be miserable because of it."

"I won't be. I do love nursing them, I just…have to figure out my sleep schedule. I can do that now that I need to be back on a regular one. I love doing this, Britt, I don't want you to think otherwise."

"I don't think otherwise. I see you with them, and I love watching it, but I just want to let you know I support whatever you choose to do with your body, no matter what."

"Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

"I always will, Santana, no matter what."


	73. Chapter 73

For the first three weeks back at work, Santana eases into a full time surgical load. She knows it's the doing of Shelby, but she doesn't complain. She's not in the mood to argue with her about it, and considering how frosty she's been with her boss since returning, she's not sure she has much of a leg to stand on anyway. She ought to apologize, she knows that, but something in Santana's pride gets in the way, and she just can't bring herself to do it quite yet.

Holly finds her on the last day of her third week back, just as she's finishing up an appendectomy. It's been so long since she's done a surgery with Holly, and Santana knows just by the way she approaches her in the hallway that she's going to ask her to scrub in. Her stomach flutters at the thought, wondering how capable she'll be at performing surgery on a newborn after what her own son had been through, but she knows she has to put her personal life aside. She knows she has to focus on her professional life, and the idea that _someday_ she might want to take Holly up on her offer and get a board certification on neonatology. So she swallows hard, and she smiles when Holly saunters up to her.

"I've got a brand new baby girl with pulmonary atresia, you want in, sweet cheeks?" Holly puts her hand on her hip expectantly, and Santana nods.

"When?"

"Right now. My resident is stuck on a case with Jones, and I need another set of hands."

"I'm in. Let's do it."

Santana's stomach feels off as she scrubs in outside of Holly's operating room. She pushes it down, and she gets her gloves on, following her mentor into the room. On the table is a newborn probably smaller than her own babies were, and she swallows down the bile that rises in her throat. All she can see is Oliver, lying on what may very well be this same table, and she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. It's difficult, she know it was going to be difficult, but she has to get through this. She has to prove to herself that she's capable of doing it.

"You okay, kid?" Holly asks, looking at her with concern.

"Yeah…yeah. Totally good."

"Are you sure? Because if it's too much—"

"It's not." Santana shakes her head vehemently. "I'm under control."

Holly makes the first cut, and Santana manages to keep her hands from shaking as she watches the tiny heart open up. It's tiny but it looks mostly healthy, and she thinks of her son's brain. Holly saved his life. Holly is going to save this little life. Holly is…probably one of the best surgeons in the world, and to be by her side is an honor.

"Strong little thing." Holly notes. "Like yours."

"Was it…hard doing surgery on him?" Santana manages, watching intently as Holly begins the repair.

"It was even more pressure, knowing he was yours, that's for sure."

"Did I…even get to thank you for it?"

"You did, but you were out of it when you did. So, you're welcome. He's doing well?"

"He is. They're both getting so big so fast. It's weird now that I'm back at work. I come home, and sometimes I feel like they've changed during the day."

"I've heard that. I think you've got some lucky kids, with both you and Pierce as their mothers."

"Britt's better than I am." Santana takes the clamp from Shelby, and looks over her shoulder. "I'm trying though."

"I doubt that. I've seen how Liam looks at you, and if you're half as good of a mom as you are a surgeon, I'd say you're successful."

The surgery takes three hours, and conversation slows as they work to fix the heart. Santana feels like she doesn't really breathe until she stitches up the tiny chest, and watches the vitals on the monitor improve. Once the baby is in recovery, Santana goes up to her office, and she sits in her scrubs as she looks again on her computer at neonatology. There's a pull she feels toward it, but she knows she still can't make the leap. She knows that with two newborns and a four year old at home, she just can't commit to this. But still, it's in her head. Still, she might talk to Brittany about it…eventually.

Brittany ends up getting stuck in her last surgery late, so Santana goes home to the kids herself. Her mom, as usual, has the house under control, and bidding her goodbye, she puts two baby seats on the kitchen table and slides over a step stool for Liam so she can get dinner started. It's just an easy vodka sauce recipe she found, but Liam giggles and grins as he pours a can of tomatoes into a pot, gripping it tightly.

"Mommy Noodle, I misseded you today! Did you do any good surg'ries?"

"I did." Santana smiles. "I helped fix the heart of a baby even littler than Max and Ollie."

"Like Doccer Holly fixeded Ollie's brains?"

"Just like that." She manages a laugh. "I was helping Dr. Holly today, since she's the very best at doing surgeries on little babies."

"No, Mommy Noodle." He says seriously. "You and Mama are the bestest doccers in the whole wide world."

"Sir." Santana wraps her arms around him and just squeezes him to her chest, completely enamored with her sweet little boy.

"I'm gonna be a doccer too. I'm gonna fix all the skins on the kids, then I can be just like Mama and just like you!"

"We'd like that a lot, Liam. But we'd like _anything_ you ever decide to do."

"What's everyone up to in here?" Brittany comes into the kitchen, still wearing her shoes and her jacket, and wraps her arms around Santana's waist from behind. Santana breathes in the coldness from her outerwear, and tilts her head back for a kiss.

"Mama! You're home! We're cookin' dinner! I did the tomatoes!"

"Did you?" She lets her kiss on Santana's lips linger for a moment before she lifts up Liam and tickles his side. "I'll remember that when I eat."

"Okey Mama! But we have to move the babies! They're sleepin' on the table!"

"Sounds like a good place to sleep!" Brittany laughs, then squeezes Santana's shoulder, leaning into whisper in her ear. "Missed you today."

"I missed you too…not even a second to spare when one of us wasn't in surgery."

"I saw Holly on my way out. You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. It was good to like…I don't know, pay it forward or something. I was freaked at first, but I was with _Holly,_ so…"

"So everything went well."

"Exactly." Santana kisses her again, nuzzling her neck. "How did your last surgery go?"

"Not bad, just long. Thanks for cooking."

"Yeah, totally. I considered pizza, but since it would be the third time this week we fed it to Liam, I _figured_ I could pull something together."

"It smells great. I'm going to go change out of this outfit and wash up, okay?"

"Definitely." Santana smiles at her, tugging the zipper of her coat. "Pasta is going in now, so you have ten minutes."

Brittany comes down to dinner in sweatpants and the long sleeved Brigham and Women's t-shirt that Santana always thinks she looks really sexy in. Though the twins took a late nap, by the time dinner is done, baths are ran, and Brittany holds them in her arms while Santana lays on Liam's bed in her jeans reading to him, they're beginning to conk out again. Together, they bring them into the bedroom, and once Santana changes into a long t-shirt, she sits and lets them nurse slowly, before they're out for the night. Brittany grabs the baby monitor, and they go downstairs, set on actually staying up past nine on a Friday night.

While Santana finds a movie for them, Brittany makes popcorn, and once _Wonder Woman_ is playing—despite it being the third time they've watched it—Santana lays her head on Brittany's shoulder, content to be so close to her. About halfway through, Santana begins to play with the strings on Brittany's pants, and then, before she can stop herself, she's kissing up her collar bone, feeling really revved for a good on the couch makeout session with her wife. It's been a _really_ long time, but once she's laying on top of Brittany, lips latched on to the soft bit of skin at the hollow of her throat, she remembers how much she loves this, how good it feels when Brittany's heart is pressed up against hers, and she can feel the warm skin of her abdomen under the palms of her hands.

They kiss for a long time, until Santana lifts her head, and looks deep into Brittany's eyes. She can feel Brittany studying her face, and she gives her a seductive smile, one she hasn't practiced in months. They've been going through the motions, sharing intimacy in other ways, but tonight, nine weeks after Santana gave birth, she feels like maybe she's ready. Feels like the time is right to go to bed with her wife. Feels like she remembers how much she was missing during her long recovery.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" Santana breathes, kissing Brittany's chin after she speaks.

"Do _you?_ "

"Yeah…I think so."

Brittany turns off the television and grabs the monitor before she takes Santana's hand and leads her up the stairs. They get just outside the bedroom when Santana stops, making a face.

"I'm sorry…I know Roz said it was fine, and the ABP says it doesn't fuck up child development because they have no idea what's going on, but…can we go in the guest room? I'm…not comfortable having sex when they're sleeping in there."

"Yes, yeah, of course, Santana. Whatever you want." Brittany nods, hair tousled and lips swollen from their kissing.

Once they get into the guest room, Brittany pulls back the comforter on the bed, and Santana perches at the edge. She's a lot more nervous than she expected, and she picks at her fingernails as she deliberates her next action. For her part, Brittany gently touches Santana's shoulders, urging her to lay down, and when she does, they're face to face, Santana's bare legs tangled with Brittany's covered.

"Where can I touch you?" Brittany murmurs, stroking Santana's hair.

"I want to touch you first. It's been so long, and I just…want to make you feel good."

"Okay." She nods, gasping as Santana's hands glide up under her shirt and cup her breasts. For Santana, it feels so good to have the soft skin in her hands, and she sucks in a breath as her thumbs trace over hard nipples. "Feels good already."

Santana doesn't remove her shirt, but instead, continues to play with her breasts beneath it, allowing the fabric to act as an additional source of arousal as she alternates between touching her skin to skin, and rubbing her above the shirt. When she finally has her wife sufficiently turned on, she slides down her body, lifting her shirt to kiss the flat plane of her stomach, then slipping off her pants to reveal her naked sex. It's obvious Brittany wasn't expecting this tonight, and Santana smiles, appreciating how her wife looks, perfectly naturally. Gently, she parts her legs, and she settles on her elbows between them, licking her lips. She loves to go down on Brittany, but she knows tonight, after so long, will be better than usual.

She uses her fingers first, parting Brittany, and massaging the bundle of nerves beneath. Santana watches Brittany's face as she sucks in air, and then she leans her head down, pressing a kiss to her sex, before pressing the flat of her tongue where her fingers had been. She realizes, as she works against her, that Brittany must not have even touched herself in the months since they'd last been intimate, because she comes quickly, wetness coating Santana's tongue. She wants to bring her to a second orgasm, but Brittany gently presses at her shoulders, bringing her back up to kiss her mouth.

"Let me love you, Santana, please." Brittany croaks, gently lying Santana on her back.

The vulnerable position makes Santana's muscles tense, but she tries to push the feeling down. It had felt so good to pleasure Brittany, and yet, she finds herself almost sick with worry over Brittany pleasuring her in return. Though she tries to hide it, Brittany notices, and she quickly stops touching Santana, and looks her deep in the eyes.

"You're really tense. Do you want me to stop?"

"I…I think I just need to relax for a second."

"Here." Brittany helps her onto her side, and presses into her back. "Let's slow down for a minute, and I'll rub your shoulders?"

"Yeah. That sounds really good, actually."

Brittany begins slowly, digging her thumbs into Santana's shoulder blades to relieve the tension that always seems to build there. Santana lolls her head back, enjoying how good that feels, and she lets her body melt into Brittany's hands. After a long time of that, she takes one of Brittany's hands, and she brings it to her breast beneath her shirt. She feels a little leakage, but she doesn't let it freak her out. Instead, she focuses on how good it feels to have her wife's hands on her. Focuses on how deeply she'd missed being connected like this. This is a good position for her tonight, half in Brittany's embrace, and she closes her eyes, just feeling as her wife slowly and adoringly touches her still baby-softened body.

Carefully, Brittany's hand creeps down Santana's body. She feels it on the soft and dimpled skin of her stomach, still so loose from carrying twins, and she feels it caressing the insides of her thighs. She'd shaved for work today, so the skin on her legs is smooth, and in a moment of vanity, she feels grateful for that, grateful that there's something she feels is sexy and desirable about her body, when she feels at her least. When Brittany's hands dip into her panties though, Santana is stricken by how _different_ she feels, and it takes her a moment to realize quite what it is.

"It's the medication." Santana mumbles, turning to bury her face in Brittany's shoulder. She's embarrassed, and she hates that this is a side effect. "It's not that I'm not turned on."

"What can I do?" Brittany whispers, letting her fingers slip out for just a moment while Santana works out what's going through her head. "I don't want to do anything that's going to cause you discomfort."

"I want to feel you make love to me. I _need_ it. I just…I need a glass of wine, any maybe—" Heat floods Santana's face, and she finds her hand to scrub at it. "There's…um…that lube in our bathroom cabinet from when we had to give Liam that enema."

"Stay here, okay? I'll be right back with both things. But we can—"

"I know." Santana nods. "Thank you. But I don't want to."

While Brittany leaves the room, Santana lays on the pillow, feeling ashamed of her own body. When she'd first been medicated, she experienced side effects like this, but by the time she was with Brittany, they'd subsided years ago. Now though, with the increase in dosage, likely coupled with her anxiety about exposing herself after birth, she's embarrassed by her inability to control her own body, and she hates that she…feels so dry, despite how turned on she feels by all of the kissing, and touching, and pleasuring of Brittany.

When she comes back, Santana is lost in her head, but she takes the glass of red wine from Brittany's hand, and knocks it back in one gulp. She lays back down, and feels Brittany's lips on her shoulder, a gently reassurance that it's going to be okay. With that, she slides her own panties down her legs, and she spreads her legs a little, making a space for Brittany. When the cap pops softly, she turns to watch Brittany coat her fingers, and there's this odd swell of love for her, like accommodating her sexual inadequacies makes Santana adore her all the more.

"If you're not comfortable, we'll stop, okay?"

"I'm okay…with you, I'm always okay."

"I love you, Santana." Brittany whispers, carefully bringing her hand back down between her legs.

Santana brings Brittany's other hand back up under her shirt to cup her breast, and she leans her head back into the crook of Brittany's neck. She lets herself feel the experimental touches of Brittany's fingers on her sex, and she holds her breath as she softly pinches her nipple. Her whole body feels different, but it's not _bad_ different. She just needs to adjust. She just needs to get out of her head and be in the moment.

"Feels good." She murmurs, as her clit jumps a little, and she can feel some natural moisture begin to form.

"You're sure?"

"Uh huh. Yeah. Keep doing that."

It's definitely not a sprint, and Santana wonders how Brittany's hand doesn't cramp with all the time she spends massaging, curling, thrusting, trying to find just the right pace to bring her to the edge. When her orgasm finally comes, it's not an eruption, but a slow throbbing that peaks gently. She leans back, and she kisses Brittany's lips, holding her there like that, taking all of her in. She's in love with this woman, even more for all they've been through, and she clamps her thighs, keeping Brittany's hand right where it is to extend her gentle orgasm.

"Sorry that was…" Santana trails off, nuzzling her nose.

"Do you feel okay?" Brittany frets over her, but doesn't move her hands from where they are.

"I feel really good. It's…the medication that makes everything…different. But _you_ feel really good inside of me."

"I've missed being inside of you."

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to be ready for it. I just…I don't know."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You've been physically and mentally recovering from a _lot._ I would never expect you to do something you weren't ready for."

"I can't believe we're still half dressed."

"I can." Brittany laughs. "We've done this before."

"You always seem to be wearing that shirt when we do. I think I have a thing for it."

"The shirt, hmm?" She teases, peppering kisses over Santana's clothed shoulders.

"Or the woman wearing it…you know."

"Can I carry you to bed?"

"To show me how strong and sexy you are?" Santana giggles.

"I suppose for that reason. But also because I know you're like a spaghetti string after sex, and I was going to let you avoid having to get up and walk."

"A spaghetti string? I resent that."

"Is it not the truth?" Brittany slides her hand from Santana's breast and tickles her side.

"It's a _little_ bit the truth. But really, I can walk, and then I want to cuddle the shit out of you."

"Oh, the way with words you have." Brittany laughs.

They get up, and leave the bed to be taken care of in the morning. After they take turns in the bathroom, Brittany gets into bed, and Santana crawls in beside her, laying in Brittany's arms so they're face to face. She's a total postcoital cuddler, and she can't stop pressing soft kisses to Brittany's mouth.

"I love seeing you so happy."

"I love _feeling_ so happy. I'm not ready to drop the dosage on my medication, but…I feel like I'm doing better. The kids are all doing really well, work is going along, Mom isn't too overwhelmed yet by being here all day, and…you and I are good again."

"Were we not good, honey?" Brittany asks, furrowing her brow.

"I don't know…I didn't make it easy for you to deal with me, and I…expected a lot of you when I was going through what I was going through. I couldn't have done it without your support though."

"I promised you before you got pregnant that I'd be what you needed me to be for you. That included afterwards."

"I'm glad we got two for one on this, Britt. I don't think I could do it again."

"I know." She nods. "After the pregnancy you had, I wouldn't _want_ you to. But I appreciate it more than words can even express. I'm not young, and I would have been high risk had I been the one to do it, so I'm so grateful that you could."

"You don't regret that you didn't get to?"

"I don't. When I decided not to have a baby on my own, I sort of knew that I wouldn't be doing it _ever,_ and I guess for the most part, I assumed I wouldn't have kids. But then I got Liam, and then you gave me Max and Oliver. _That_ means more to me than experiencing pregnancy."

"I'm glad I got to do it with you. As hard as it was, I think it's the most intimate experience I ever could have shared with you."

"I think so too. Sometimes I miss feeling your little belly between us."

"There was _nothing_ little about my belly." Santana nods over to where the twins lay sound asleep. "Had to fit those two kiddos in there."

"Cute ones too." Brittany smiles softly. "So what's next for us?"

"Another certification maybe." Santana blurts out, though she didn't expect to say it.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. No." She shakes her head. "I don't know. Not right now, I don't think. But you know how I get every time I'm in surgery with Holly."

"I do know, and that's why I think that whenever you're ready, you should do it. You love neonatology, and it would be so good for the trajectory of your career."

"I just don't want to be _that_ mom. I'm afraid if I take on another thing, I'll have even less time than I already do with them."

"Why don't you sit down and have an honest conversation with Holly, and then with Shelby? If you can swap some of your surgical hours out, maybe it won't add too much to your workload. That's what I did when I got my head and neck surgery certification. It's studying for the boards that are the most work, but you've got time before those come up."

"Yeah…maybe."

"I'm not saying you have to decide tonight." Brittany rubs Santana's back. "But if it's something you want, we'll work it out so you can go for it."

"Do you know how much I love you, Britt?"

"I think I'm pretty sure of it."


	74. Chapter 74

Santana didn't realize just how stressful it would be to go back to work while she had three kids at home. The first month is total hell for her, as she juggles having almost zero sleep with performing some of the most intense surgeries of her career. She still hasn't had the opportunity to tell both Shelby and Holly that she plans of working on a second certification, and she thinks that she really has to wait until everything calms down in her head before she can make that kind of commitment. As much as she wants to do it, she has to watch out for her mental health, and when she tells Brittany that, she is, as always, completely supportive of her choice.

After a particularly bad night of sleep, Santana manages to catch an hour nap in one of the on-call rooms before she does an appendectomy, and the surgery is luckily a breeze for her. She's feeling pretty good about things, when she rounds a corner and sees Puckerman, Lynn and Hudson deep in conversation. They don't notice her there, and she's just about to announce her presence when she realizes that _she_ is the topic of their conversation.

"I'm telling you, can you imagine being one of those kids? It'd be like sliding through the gates of hell, coming out of that woman." Puckerman laughs bitterly. " _I survived the great water slide! Oh, shit, that's my mother?"_

"She's not that bad." Lynn tries half-heartedly.

"Are you kidding me? She's like, the biggest bitch in the whole hospital. I know she's in peds, or whatever, but I can't even fathom that she'd have a single nurturing bone in her body. Pierce probably has to apologize to the kids every single day that Lopez is their mother. Damn, I want to apologize to _Pierce_ that Lopez is her _wife._ I don't know which I feel more confused about, that such a fine piece of ass like Lopez has such a shit personality, or that a fine piece of ass like Piece is _married_ to her."

"Puckerman." Santana's tone is low, angry, utterly devastated, if she's telling the truth.

"Uh…." He puts his hand behind his head and looks between Hudson and Lynn. "Hey Dr. Lopez."

"Lynn, Hudson, why don't the two of you go do some actual work, rather than gossiping in the corridor like a couple of schoolgirls?" She snaps, and they move quickly, while Puckerman attempts to follow. "Not you, Puckerman."

"Aw, c'mon, I've got a surgery in twenty."

"I don't give a shit what you have. Who's your attending?"

"Jones, and she's gonna kill me if I'm late."

"You doing surgery is a _privilege_ in this hospital, and one you've done very little to earn. I'm walking you down to Jones, I'm going to let Heyward do the surgery that you're supposed to do, and then after you and I talk in my office, you'll be doing scut for the rest of the day."

"You can't do that!"

"I can do whatever the hell I want. Since I'm like, the biggest bitch in the whole hospital, you shouldn't be surprised by that."

"You weren't supposed to hear that, why are you sneaking around anyway?"

"You have absolutely no accountability for your actions. _That_ is the reason you're not doing this surgery. If you don't start taking responsibility, you're going to be a shit doctor."

"Like you don't gossip?"

"You seem to think you know everything about me, but you have _no idea."_ Santana starts walking toward Mercedes' office, and she turns her head back to make sure Puckerman is following her.

When she gets to the office, Mercedes is just finishing up whatever she was working on to get down to surgery. Her eyes widen when she sees Santana standing there with Puckerman, but Santana gives her a subtle shake of the head. She's so glad Mercedes is his attending this week, because she might have a much harder time getting someone else to have her back. Mercedes stands up and puts her hands on her hips, looking between the two of them.

"Dr. Jones, tell Lopez I can do the surgery with you! I've been waiting all week for this."

"First of all, it's Dr. Lopez, and second, shut up and let her talk."

"Rather than prepare for this surgery that seems to be so important to him, Puckerman, Lynn and Hudson thought the best way to spend their time would be to rhapsodize about my marriage and my children. And considering Puckerman wanted to talk about what a _fine piece of ass_ I am, he should consider himself lucky that the worst he's getting is a missed surgery and a bunch of photocopies."

"What the _hell_ made you think that was appropriate?"

"It was just guy talk." Puckerman defends.

"Guy talk doesn't fly around here."

"Nor does this so-called _guy talk_ include talking about my sons coming down a water slide and lamenting the fact that I'm their mother."

"Let me have him." Mercedes tells Santana, very low, and knowing how much those words must have hurt her best friend. "I have plenty of grunt work with my patients that needs to be done, and I think it's better he keep away from you."

"He's your intern." Santana nods.

"One more time, Puckerman, and I'll personally report you to Chief Sylvester. You're a disgrace to the damn program with your mouth, and we're all sick and tired of it. Go, room 702, Mr. Tybalt needs his catheter changed."

Puckerman scurries out of the room, and Santana sinks down into one of the chairs at Mercedes' desk. She puts her head in her hands and takes deep breaths. There's never been an intern that she has hated with a passion the way she hates Puckerman. He just has this way about him that makes her deepest insecurities come out, and she wishes he was at any hospital in the world but this one. She knows she can go to Sylvester and get him permanently banned from her service, but she's been desperately trying to avoid making waves. And really, it doesn't seem to matter if he's on her service or not, he seems to be incapable of keeping her name out of his mouth.

"You okay, Santana?" Mercedes asks, sitting down next to her.

"I'm fine, I'm being dramatic."

"He's such a dick."

"I don't even know how he graduated medical school, he's so much more concerned with getting girls, or whatever, then actually doing his work. And for some goddamn reason, he's obsessed with me and my business."

"Because he knows he couldn't get a girl like either you or Brittany on his best day. And he hates that you're gorgeous and also absolutely incredible at your job." Mercedes pats Santana's arm, and Santana sighs.

"He actually had the nerve to say that I don't have a single nurturing bone in my body. I'm a fucking pediatric surgeon, and I have three kids. I don't even think I'm that big of a bitch."

"Because he doesn't know you at all. Look, Santana, I know you've been struggling to balance work and home, and as much as Sam wants to have a kid, I don't think I could even come close to doing what you're doing. Don't let him and his goddamn mouth upset you. He's completely clueless, and borderline incompetent at his job while he's at it. I know I'm waiting as much as you are for him to fail his intern exam."

"I've never wished an intern would fail so much. He's the worst intern in the program, and he's not even the kind of intern you feel bad about them sucking."

"Do you want to report him to Sylvester for this?"

"What's the point? What would I even say? Puckerman had a lot of shit to say about me and my marriage? It just seems like I should be beyond caring about that."

"I don't think anyone should be beyond that. He has no right to talk about a higher up like that, and since he was talking about pieces of ass, you have a leg to stand on with sexual harassment."

"I'm not going to report it. I'm just trying to get through my job, you know? I've got three surgeries this afternoon, and I want to get home to my kids. The last thing I want to do is sit in Sylvester's office and fill out paperwork for an hour."

"You know this is why guys like him get away with this, right?"

"I know." Santana looks down at the desk, and takes a deep breath. "If he does it again…"

"Promise me that, Santana. Because if you don't, I will."

"I promise, 'Cedes."

"Thank you. Look, I've gotta get down there for this bypass. I don't need an intern, so keep yours. I was pretty much planning on doing everything myself anyway, since I don't trust Puckerman's instincts. Are we still on for Friday night?"

"As long as you don't care that our house is a fucking disaster, we're definitely still on."

"Santana, your house was a disaster long before you had kids. We're still on."

Santana really wants to go down to Brittany's office and vent about what happened, but she knows Brittany is in the middle of a six-hour surgery, and she has her own work to get to. Her patient files are piling up on her desk, and she needs to get through three discharges before her tonsillectomy in an hour. So, she does what she does best, and she goes back to work. By the time the day is done, she's still seething, and as she's packing up, Brittany meets her in her office.

"Hey, babe." Brittany smiles, and comes up to her, rubbing her arms. "I ran into Mercedes outside of the OR. Are you okay?"

"I'm more pissed than upset now. That little fucker, I swear to God."

"He's wrong about everything, you know."

"I know he is. He's a fucking idiot and has no idea what happens in our house. Still though, I hate the fact that people sit there and talk about me like that. I try so hard to be a good wife and mother, when it really doesn't come naturally to me."

"Are you sure it doesn't? Because honestly, Santana, it seems to me like it does. You're so good with the boys, and you're _really_ good to me."

"I don't know, Britt. I spent most of my life single with no kids, and I _know_ I'm good at my career, but I second guess myself at home all the time. I dealt with all of that postpartum bullshit, and I just couldn't wait to get back to work where I'm a natural at things. I struggle to talk to you about how I'm feeling, because I don't want to fuck things up. I just…I wonder who else here talks about me."

"No one with any kind of brain. You need Puckerman banned from your service, and I really think you need to report him to Sylvester."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because if he's going to walk around talking about how attending physicians are nice pieces of ass, then she needs to be made aware of it. It's a toxic work environment for you, and you don't need that."

"I really don't feel like sitting up in her office for God knows how long to fill out a report. I want to get home to the boys and eat dinner."

"Look, Santana, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but I really don't like the idea of you being made to feel like this. You're too good for that."

"Ugh. You really think I should?"

"I do." Brittany nods. "I'll go up there with you if you want me to."

"Well he _was_ talking about you too. He was trying to figure out both how _such a fine piece of ass had such a shit personality_ and why _such a fine piece of ass was married to her."_

"You're making it really hard for me not to personally kill him, just so you know. If my entire career didn't ride on my professionalism, you'd find me out in the parking lot with him right now."

"I fight that battle every time I see him. If I was really the bitch he claims I am, I'd probably have slapped him by now."

"You're not a bitch, Santana." Brittany soothes, gently kissing her lips. "You're assertive, and it makes you damn good at what you do. I know that sometimes peds surgeons get a rep as being big softies, but you prove how damn strong you have to be to be successful in a field like yours."

"I guess I'll go talk to Sue. Can you just call my mom and tell her we'll be late? I think it's just…better if I do it alone."

"Whatever you need, Santana. I'll go back to my office and get some work done while you do that."

Taking a deep breath, Santana goes up to Sue Sylvester's office. There's always something terrifying about going there, like she's a kid in high school getting in trouble. But this time, she's certain she's done nothing wrong. She just really hopes Sue doesn't think she's overreacting, and she hopes that this whole thing doesn't get blown totally out of proportion. As much as she hates Puckerman, she sort of has a softness about her that makes her not want to ruin someone's life. She thinks maybe that's part of being a woman, constantly feeling concerned that your own discomfort isn't valid enough. The whole thought of it makes her sick, and furrowing her brow, she knocks on Sue's door.

"Lopez." Sue opens it. "Did we have an appointment?"

"We…didn't. Do you need me to come back?"

"I have a few minutes." She steps back, and Santana is surprised that she's in such an uncharacteristically good mood. "Come in, sit down."

"Okay…" Santana sits across from Sue's desk, and waits for her to be seated. "I'm here about an intern."

"Should I bother to guess which one?"

"Noah Puckerman. I've been trying with him since he's been here, Sue, but he consistently crosses the line, even as we all move it for him. Today, I walked in on him talking about what fine pieces of ass Dr. Pierce and I both are, as he simultaneously disparaged my ability to mother my children."

"And who was he speaking to about this?"

"Uh…" Santana realizes she has to be honest about this, yet she's a little concerned about messing up the careers of Hudson and Lynn, who she didn't actually hear say anything about her. "Ryder Lynn and Finn Hudson."

"And what did they have to say?" Sue puts her glasses on and takes out a pen.

"Nothing that I heard, so I don't want to assume anything."

"And you confronted him?"

"I did." She nods. "And I brought him to his attending. Dr. Jones took him off the surgery he was scheduled to perform, and sent him to change catheters."

"Is this your first experience with him being inappropriate?"

"Um…" Santana shifts in her seat, wringing her hands. "In this specific way, yes. But I've reprimanded him about his behavior regarding patients before."

"So, then it's time for me to talk to him."

"Uh huh, I think so. I want to fill out a formal complaint against him."

"I'll get the paperwork for you, and then I'll deal with it from here. I'll need to bring you into my office with him to discuss this."

"That's fine." Santana nods, still incredibly uncomfortable.

She fills out the paperwork for Sue, and she feels a little nauseous as she does. She's spent her career trying not to make waves, and the whole idea that she's going to have to have a meeting with Sue Sylvester and an intern makes her incredibly nervous. She may come off like she's tough, but underneath, she feels like a scared little girl sometimes, and this is just…a lot for her. When she finishes, she thanks Sue, and she goes back down to Brittany's office. She just nods and doesn't say anything, and Brittany gets that, as they drive home in silence. They pick up Chinese food on the way so they don't have to deal with dinner, and by the time Santana gets in the door to the house, her breasts are incredibly sore from having waited too long since her last pumping to feed the twins.

"Mama! Mama! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle!" Liam dances in the doorway as they walk in. "I have been waiting forever and ever and _ever_ for you to get home!"

"I know, Sir." Santana lifts him up and squeezes him close, so glad for his smiling face in her life. "We had to work a little late today. But guess what? We brought you lo mein!"

"My favoritest noodles!" He cheers, nuzzling Santana's neck. "And I'm so, so, so hungry!"

"So is this guy." Maribel carries over Oliver, who squirms in her arms. "I held off on feeding him, because I figured you'd need to nurse."

"Thanks for that, Mom. I really do." She sets Liam down and takes Oliver.

"Here, Li, how about I get you some dinner while Mommy feeds Ollie?" Brittany offers. "Maribel, do you want to stay?"

"Oh, no. I have a roast in the slow cooker that I want to get home to. But you enjoy. I'll see you all in the morning."

"Ma, seriously, I don't know how you're keeping up with this." Santana pulls down her top and lets Oliver nurse. "There's no way we could do this without you."

"This is the best way I could imagine spending my retirement. I think I'll be sad when Liam starts school."

"School! School! School!" Liam cheers, and Santana smiles, so glad he's already excited about it. "I'm gonna make you so many pictures Gramma Maribel!"

"Well look at that." Maribel ruffles his hair. "Now there's no way I can be sad about that."

Maribel leaves, and Santana sits with Oliver, and then Max, when he wakes up. She needs the solace of a few minutes with her infant sons, and she's grateful that Brittany is dealing with dinner while she does that. If anyone in the world understands her, it's her wife, and when she comes in with a plate of twice cooked pork and an egg roll, Santana is even more certain of the reason why she married her. It's such a good balance, she thinks, and Brittany cares for her in a way she sometimes doesn't believe she deserves to be cared for.

"Have I told you that you're the best wife ever?" Santana asks, stroking Max's little head.

"I think you have." Brittany spears a piece of pork and holds it to Santana's lips, knowing that she can't eat with her hands full of babies. "But the competition is stiff. Look at you, feeding our sons and stuff."

"Eh, I do what I can."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm…just reminding myself that I can be good at more than one thing. I just like, feel frustrated by the fact that it got this far. Sue asked me if there had been other incidents, and I feel like since he started, it's just been one incident after another. But this was the first time that it really _directly_ impacted me. Maybe if I'd reported him after one of the dozen ways he talked about patients, it wouldn't have gotten here."

"You've tried, even with him, to give the benefit of the doubt. And the blame isn't on you, if it was, it would be on every single one of us, because we've all let him get away with saying things he has no right to say to avoid the paperwork. We're run ragged, and he's been slipping through the cracks of a system."

"I'm going to have to meet with him and Sue, and all I can picture is him doing that _aw c'mon_ thing that he does, like everything is just one big joke to him. But…I just can't let him get away with this and treat other people like this if he becomes an attending. I'd constantly feel sick about the interns he'll have to work with."

"He doesn't belong in any position of authority, that's for sure." Brittany shakes her head, and gives Santana another piece of pork.

"Is Liam okay?"

"He's actually sleeping with his head on the table." She laughs. "I'm going to bring him up to bed, but I wanted to check on you first."

"I'm pretty bummed we got like _no_ time with him tonight. I feel like…we just need to do something as a family, I don't know. Do you think we could stack our days and take a long weekend soon? I feel terrible doing that after we were both out for so long."

"As long as we're working our usual zillion hours a week, I don't think it'll be a problem. Did you want to just stay here, or go away?"

"I don't know, maybe I'm totally insane saying I want to go away with a four-year-old and two infants, but maybe I'll just be nice to get out of here…Even if we just went to Boston."

"As much as I love my parents, I think if we go away, we should go _away._ We've been complaining about how cold it is, what if we did a quick trip somewhere warm?"

"I could really use that. Somewhere with a balcony where I could drink a margarita with you after the boys are in bed. It's been a _long_ time since I've had margaritas."

"Probably since you go so sick our wedding weekend." Brittany laughs. "But leave this up to me, just get your schedule fixed with Shelby, and I'll make the rest happen. Let me go put Li to bed, and then we'll eat the rest of our dinner together?"

"These guys are _out,_ so I think that's totally possible."

While Brittany puts Liam to bed, Santana changes the twins into their pajamas and puts them up in their crib. When she gets back downstairs, she pours two glasses of wine, and she brings Brittany's plate into the living room. The house really is a disaster, and she knows they should attempt to clean it up tonight—since they've made it clear that they don't expect Maribel to be a maid—but neither of them are really up to it after the day they've had, and when Brittany comes down, she sinks onto the couch, puts her feet up, and puts her plate on her lap.

"Wine was a really good idea, Santana. This day feels like it was ten years long."

"Was yours bad too?"

"Not bad." Brittany shakes her head. "Just exhausting. My arms hurt from that facial reconstruction, it was just like…non-stop, and then there was a bleed. We fixed it, but you know how exhausted you get when you think a patient is going to bleed out on your table."

"Don't I though. Mine was all routine surgeries today, the only good thing about the day, not worrying that I was going to kill anybody."

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with running into hearing something like that today, Santana. But I hope you know how much I love you, and how much our boys love you. Also, I don't understand how you're the bitch in the hospital…you give those interns more chances than anyone else in the world."

"It's my personality…I've spent my life with everyone believing I'm a bitch. It's just…whatever."

"I don't like that though. I mean, look, I've firsthand seen you at your worst, but there's so much more depth to you than that."

"I'm not exactly showing Puckerman and the interns my depth though, Britt. It took me how long to show it to _you?"_

"Yeah, I guess. I'd just like to see you show them how brutal you could be toward them if you wanted to. Half of them deserve a lot more crap than you give them."

"Well, I guess now Puckerman'll hate me even more, but…at least I did what I had to do."

"I'm really glad you did, Santana."

"I know. And honestly, even after all of my reservations, I'm really glad I did too."


	75. Chapter 75

Santana is a nervous wreck about talking to Chief Sylvester and Puckerman. She knows that she shouldn't be, she knows that she's done nothing wrong, and Noah Puckerman should be the one who's a wreck, but still, she can't help herself. As much as she has always stood up for herself, when push comes to shove, she actually hates confrontation. She doesn't want to sit in front of her boss and tell her again that one of her subordinates has made her so uncomfortable that she can't work with him. So she tosses and turns the night before, she just can't get comfortable in bed, and at two-thirty am, she's laying there wide awake.

"Britt?" She murmurs, knowing that her wife is a light sleeper.

"Mmhm."

"I can't sleep."

"Okay." Brittany rolls over. "I'm up."

"I'm sorry…I'm just like, really upset about having to talk to Sue in the morning. I fucking hate Puckerman, and every time I almost fall asleep, I see his snide face in my head."

"It makes me so angry that he did this to you, and now you're the one who's awake and worried."

"Am I overreacting? It's not like he touched me or anything."

"No." Brittany pushes herself to sit up, and looks Santana right in the eyes, even in the darkness. "It's not overreacting to expect a safe work environment, and that includes emotionally safe. He's been making you uncomfortable for as long as I've known you, and he crossed a line the other day."

"But what's going to happen if Sue thinks it's not a big deal anymore after she talks to him? Then I still have to work with him, and I can't imagine it's going to get any better."

"If Sue thinks you're overreacting, then you go to HR. But I highly doubt she will. She may be a lunatic sometimes, but if there's one thing she can't stand, it's men who try to intimidate women."

"Is it really intimidation though?"

"Talking about your body? Insulting your mothering? He's trying to assert some sort of sick dominance over you, and yeah, that's intimidation. If this was anywhere but in our workplace, he would have been hearing from me instead of Sue."

"You're like, my lady knight in shining armor. I just really wish this wasn't happening. I've tried so hard for so long to ignore him."

"You shouldn't have to. He's in the wrong, not you. I hate that you have to go to work and worry about this. He's an asshole to everyone, but he's made it a point to single you out. He should be kicked out of the program."

"I thought the scores on his intern exam would have done it, but somehow he passed. I don't know how that's even possible."

"Neither do I." Brittany shakes her head. "Listen, tomorrow I'm going to bring you lunch after your meeting. We'll sit in your office and you can vent."

"I'm glad I don't go on nights until next week. I feel a lot better about this knowing you'll be close by."

"I know." Brittany kisses her forehead. "I am too."

It takes awhile, but Santana manages to fall back to sleep. When she wakes up again, it's to the sound of Oliver crying. She groans as she gets up to get him, and she sits back against the headboard, letting him nurse. It calms her down sometimes, having one of her kids close to her, and she strokes Oliver's head, always especially gentle with him. She wants her sons to grow up to be good men, she never wants them to put women in the situation that she's in, and she can't help but cry a little as she sits with him.

"Mommy Noodle?" Liam loudly whispers from the doorway. "Is Ollie eatin'?"

"He is, Sir. Do you want to come up and sit with us?"

"Okey." He grins, and he scrambles up on the bed. "Why you cryin'?"

"I'm just happy I have all my sweet boys, buddy. What do you think you're going to do with Grandma Maribel today?"

"She said we can go to the museum. It's still too cold for the park." He pouts. "But I like to see them dino-saurs."

"I know you do. Maybe we can go see them together again soon."

"When you don't got work?"

"When I don't have work, that's right. I happen to know that Mama really likes the brachiosaurus, and I bet she'd like to see them."

"I definitely would." Brittany murmurs, rolling over. "Good morning, Li."

"Hi Mama! Now only Maxie is sleepin'!"

"I'm sure he'll be up soon to eat. We need to give _everyone_ baths this morning, since we skipped it last night."

"I love takin' baths! Mommy Noodle can you do my hair silly?"

"Of course I can." Santana leans over to kiss his head. "I have to leave for work a little early today, but I'll make sure to give you silly hair before I go."

After both of the twins have eaten, Santana takes a shower, and Brittany gets the tub ready for Liam. She hates to leave in the middle of bath time, but she knows she needs some time to compose herself before her meeting. They'd discussed it last night, and she'll take a cab to work so Brittany can drive. She knows that she's in no shape to operate a vehicle, and she'd rather be able to close her eyes and envision a peaceful place like her therapist always tells her. This is a lot, but she's not going to let it eat her alive.

After she spikes up Liam's hair for him, and her mom arrives to help Brittany with Max and Oliver's baths, Santana leaves. She breathes in and out in the back of the cab, and when she gets into work, she finds flowers outside of her door with a card from Brittany. Sometimes she really just can't understand why Brittany is the way she is, but that's not to say that she doesn't appreciate it more than she even knows how to express. There's just something wonderful about the woman she married, and she brings the flowers into her office so she'll have them on her desk to remind her all day that she's loved.

When she gets up to Sue's office, she can see through the shades that Puckerman is already inside. Her stomach turns at the sight of him, and she steadies herself against the wall. Once she has herself composed, she knocks, and Sue calls out for her to come in. Puckerman turns his head to glare at her, but she doesn't let him make her so nervous that she can't think.

"Dr. Lopez, sit down."

"This is all such bull." Puckerman spits. "Just because—"

"You." Sue shuts him down. "Are on very thin ice, and I'd watch everything you say right now. As I've already let you know, there's been a complaint brought to my attention about your workplace behavior. Sexual harassment is something I take very seriously in this hospital."

"I can't even believe you're calling this sexual harassment, it's just how guys talk."

"It's not how guys talk around the women who work for me. You want to talk like that, join a fraternity, but that's not what I'm running here. Do you deny that you called both Dr. Lopez and Dr. Pierce _fine pieces of ass?_ "

"I—I wasn't saying it _to_ them."

"But you said it?"

"I was just messing around."

"I'm under the understanding that this isn't the first time this has happened, and that you've made similar comments about patients."

"What are her ears everywhere?"

" _I_ have ears everywhere in this hospital, Dr. Puckerman. You can't so much as breathe without word getting back to me when I want the word. This isn't something I take lightly, and since my methods of dealing with it now have to be approved through Human Resources, I'm putting you on disciplinary probation while you complete a sexual harassment training program. That means no patients, and no contact with Dr. Lopez."

"You've gotta be kidding me. I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I disagree with you there. Like I said, you're on thin eyes, and if I don't see an improvement after this, you're out of the program. And as it stands, you're permanently off the service of Dr. Lopez. Dr. Corcoran will monitor your peds rotations, considering you successfully complete the training program."

"This is such bullshit." He mutters, and Santana flinches. Sue glares at him and she stands up. "Fran from HR is outside, you're to meet with her now, and don't let me see you back in this office."

Puckerman stalks out of the office, but when Santana makes to stand up, Sue shakes her head and takes her seat again. Nervous, Santana picks at her cuticles and sucks in a deep breath of air.

"I'm bound by hospital policy." Sue explains. "If I could throw him out of the program for speaking the way he does, I would. There are too many damn chances for men like him."

"I should have said something earlier. I let him get away with it for too long."

"I know that I might come off as a bitch, Lopez, but I don't want you to be afraid to come to me. Contrary to what everyone might think, I have your best interests at heart."

"I know that now…I just…it's hard."

"I've been there. I think we all have, and we shouldn't have to be."

"He crossed such a line the other day. He's been crossing lines since he started, but…I don't know."

"He won't be back on your service. Corcoran and I have had a conversation, and if he successfully passes the sexual harassment program, she's not one for second chances."

"Yeah, don't I know that. Just…thank you."

"That's what I'm here for. Now go to work, I don't want to have to see your face in my office any time soon."

"You won't."

Santana's whole body seems to sigh in relief when she gets out of Chief Sylvester's office. She's always been afraid of her, heard stories about her, but today she proved that she's an ally, and Santana couldn't be more grateful. She goes back downstairs to her office and she rifles through some papers before she does her first set of rounds. She needs to go down to the pit for her shift there, but she wants to make sure her patients are in order before she does. She wishes she had time to see Brittany before that, but she settles for a text, telling her she's okay, and that they'll talk over lunch. It's Friday, at least. Mercedes is coming over for dinner, and then she has the whole weekend to spend with her wife and kids. It's okay. It's all going to be okay.

The pit is a total nightmare. It's like there's something in the air that makes people have the most insane injuries, and she spends her morning doing stitches and two emergency appendectomies. When it finally comes time for lunch, she's happy to sink into her desk chair in her scrubs and wait for Brittany to come. She doesn't even pick up any files, instead, she scrolls through pictures her mom has sent of the boys, and she smiles, missing them so much, like she always does. She's glad she's back at work, but still, sometimes as a mother she feels so torn between doing her world work and missing out on little moments with the most important things in her life.

"Hey." Brittany smiles from the door. "I brought you a tuna melt and fries."

"God, you're the best. It's been a hell of a morning."

"The meeting, the pit, or both?"

"More the pit than the meeting, if I'm being honest. I didn't even have to talk to Puckerman." She tells Brittany as she sits down across from her and hands over a carton of food. "He's permanently off my service, and he has to do a sexual harassment program."

"That makes me feel a lot better, you know." Brittany opens up her own food and reaches to grab Santana's hand. "For as long as I've known you, he's been nothing but trouble."

"I wish he could be kicked out for good. He's a terrible human being, and he's going to make a terrible doctor."

"I know." She sighs. "The protocol here is bullshit, but I hope the system takes care of it."

"Ugh, I don't even want to talk about him anymore. Tell me something good."

"Well, I did the first part of Gigi's facial reconstruction this morning. She still has for surgeries to go, but she did really well on this one, and I think she'll get to live a really normal life."

"It's so scary the amount of damage airbags can do."

"That's why they tell you not to put kids in the front seat." Brittany sighs. "But she's a trooper."

"I love when you do surgeries on kids. I wish I was on your case for this one."

"You should be proud of Adams, she's your protege and she really makes a fine surgeon."

"I got lucky with Rose and Adams both, I couldn't have asked for better peds residents."

"From what Shelby tells me, you're the _reason_ they became peds residents in the first place."

"I love my job, and I try to share that with my interns."

"You're good at it. I'm so lucky to have such a hot, smart wife."

"Please, Britt, like you're not both of those things? Mindblowingly so. And you've sufficiently distracted me from feeling all kinds of crazy."

"That was my plan. I don't have a ton of time, because I want to get out of here on time tonight to get ready for dinner, but I really wanted to have lunch with you."

"I'm glad you did. Next week I'm barely going to see you. I hate when we're on opposite shifts. And I'm a little nervous about working the night shift with the boys so little."

"They've been doing well at night. I'll be fine, and you'll have your mom there during the day so you can at least get some sleep."

"We'll see if that happens." Santana sighs. "I'm going to end up wanting to wake up to nurse them at least. I like that I get to do that during the night, so…"

"Your body _does_ need sleep though."

"I guess it's all that keeps me from going off the deep end."

"I didn't mean it for that reason." Brittany smiles a little. "I just meant because you're a human person who can't operate like a robot."

"I know, I do. I'll work on it."

After lunch, Santana goes back to the pit. She spends the rest of her afternoon there dealing with one crisis after another, and by the time she's set to go home, she's more than ready. She meets Brittany up in her office, and they go out to the car together. Having figured that it would be too much to cook after a long week of work, they stop to pick up their Chinese food order, and they head home to get ready for dinner with Mercedes and Sam. For Santana, it's much needed, and as soon as she hugs her mom goodbye, she's opening up a bottle of wine.

"I'm gonna show Sam all my new trains!" Liam announces, standing under Santana's feet in the kitchen.

"I'm sure he'll like that, bed. Why don't we get you in your pajamas so we're all ready to play when he gets here."

"On it." Brittany walks into the kitchen holding Max in one arm, and holding Liam's pajamas in her free hand. "Your mom said Oliver has already been sleeping for two hours, I guess he's going to join the party tonight."

"He's our party animal." Santana shakes her head laughing. "Here, I'll take Max if you want to do pajamas."

"Pour me a glass of that while I do?"

"Obviously I already have." Santana grins as the doorbell rings.

"Sam! 'Cedes!" Liam cheers.

"Pajamas first, Li." Brittany tells him. "Then after dinner you can have some time to play."

Santana goes to the door, and Mercedes holds a bottle of wine in her hand when she opens it. Sam stands there with his goofy grin, and she lets them inside, telling them to leave their coats on the back of the couch.

"I still can't get over seeing you like this." Mercedes tickles under Max's chin. "All domestic and stuff."

"It's a pretty good life, I'm not going to lie. Much better than anonymous hookups in bar bathrooms."

"Like Kurt and I had been trying to tell you for literal years. Let me get this baby."

"Max, go see Aunt Mercedes while I get everyone some wine." She presses him into her arms. "Be careful, he just ate, and he's a puker. Sam, wine or beer?"

"If you've got a beer, I'll take one. We were going to stop, but Mercedes said I could drink wine."

"Maybe if someone didn't spend an hour on their hair, we'd have had time to stop for it." Mercedes teases lightly.

"I'm lookin' good, baby." He laughs, shaking his hair for effect.

"Sammy! Sammy!" Liam tears through the room, jumping up on him. "We've gotta play!"

"Sir, we're going to have dinner first, and then Sam can play with you for as long as he wants, okay?"

"Okey, Mommy Noodle." Liam looks forlorn, but listens. "Can I sit next to you, Sam?"

"Of course you can, little dude. C'mon."

Mercedes keeps Max while Santana and Brittany get the food on the table, and then Santana takes him and puts him in his bouncy seat on the floor beside her while they eat. Liam manages to dominate the conversation, and Mercedes just laughs, telling Santana that they'll get to talk while Sam goes to play with him. Oliver wakes up just as their finishing, and Santana gets a bottle of breast milk out of the refrigerator so she doesn't feel guilty about the wine she's been drinking. Once he's fed and Mercedes has helped Brittany clear off the table, the three women retire to the living room with the babies settled on their play mats on the floor.

"So, when's he going to put a ring on it, 'Cedes?" Santana asks, taking a long sip of her wine.

"I don't think we're there yet."

"Oh come on, he comes to your friends' house and plays with our kid. He's totally there."

"Oh, I don't mean him. He's there. I'm just not sure I'm there. I really don't get how you two balance marriage, three kids and your careers."

"I did it as a single mom." Brittany tells her. "Work-family balance is really hard, but there are so many resources. If we didn't have Maribel, we'd have them still in daycare at the hospital. It was great for me with Liam."

"I'm not even _thinking_ about kids yet. I think it's different for your marriage anyway, you both work the same crazy hours, so you get it. I can't help but wonder when Sam is going to get sick of me cancelling on him because my pager went off."

"Probably never. He's kind of like a puppy dog for you." Santana rolls her eyes a little, though not maliciously. "I say get married."

"It hasn't even been two years since you flipped on me and Kurt for setting you up on a blind date, and now you're marriage's number one cheerleader. It astounds me."

"Look, we eloped on vacation because we both just _knew._ I think when you find someone that's good for you and that you love, you should never let them go."

"He is pretty good for me. Do you know that he cooked a four course dinner for me after I did that thirteen hour surgery last week? The man couldn't even make a peanut butter sandwich before that, and suddenly, I came home to this whole gourmet spread."

"Imagine one of us had time for that?" Brittany laughs.

"I think the tuna melt you brought me for lunch today was really romantic, Brittany."

"Oh God, I forgot you had your meeting with Sue today." Mercedes covered her mouth. "What happened?"

"No, it's fine, I've been trying not to talk about it anyway. I guess he's technically suspended until he does this sexual harassment program, and he's off my service for good."

"Isn't that what he wants, to be off peds?"

"Oh, he's not off peds. Whenever he's back on a peds rotation, Shelby's going to take him. If he thinks _I'm_ a bitch, then he'll really enjoy that. When I was an intern, I was so scared of her…"

"Even with your secret crush on her?"

"Mercedes!"

"You had a crush on Shelby?" Brittany presses her hand over her mouth to hide her grin.

"I didn't have a crush on Shelby, I just thought she was kind of a genius. It was purely intellectual."

"It was totally more than intellectual. You looked for every reason to have a meeting with her."

"Because I wanted to be a pediatric surgeon, obviously."

"Babe." Brittany laughs. "That's really cute."

"Ugh, 'Cedes, I can't believe you just ratted me out."

"It was years ago, it's not like you _still_ have a crush on her."

"Still." Santana huffs. "Let's talk about something else."

Mercedes and Sam end up staying long after the boys are put to bed, and when they finally go, Santana feels like she's asleep on her feet. It was a long day in the pit, but she's so glad they did dinner. She used to spend all of her free time with Mercedes, and then Mercedes met Sam and she met Brittany and there were just all these other factors that meant they got to spend a lot less time together. But she still trusts Mercedes—and Kurt too—with her life, and it was good to just hang out and not feel like there was any pressure to run off to a patient or a meeting or anything else.

Santana uses the bathroom first, and then while Brittany is in there, she puts on her pajamas and gets into bed. She peers over at the twins and sees that they're still sound asleep, and she takes her breast pump to get rid of any of her alcohol tainted milk so she can feed them when they get up in the middle of the night. She doesn't hear Brittany come out of the bathroom over the hum of the pump, but when she gets into bed, she takes Santana's hand and squeezes it.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm just really tired. But I want to do this before bed so I can feed them tonight. You don't have to wait up."

"I'll sit with you. Li was up so late, he'll probably sleep in tomorrow, which means we can too."

"It's supposed to be gross out tomorrow. Maybe we can stay in our pajamas and have a movie day?"

"That sounds really good to me. Grocery shopping can wait until Sunday."

"I have a Fresh Direct order already started on my computer. Maybe we can just skip the grocery store all together and spend the whole _weekend_ in pajamas."

"Are you going to do your night switchover on Sunday?" Brittany asks, pushing Santana's hair out of her face.

"I guess I should. I brought some charts home so I have a reason to stay up late Sunday night. It really sucks when we're not on the same schedule."

"I've been trying not to schedule myself on nights so at least one of us can keep the routine. Maybe if you talked to Shelby…"

"I can't, then she'll get stuck taking my night shifts, and with Beth in elementary school now, that sucks for her. I don't know how she does this as a single mom, and I don't know how you did."

"You just make it work. Liam spent a lot of his time in daycare at the hospital. At Brigham I pulled a lot more doubles than I do here, so I'd sneak down and see him for an hour or so. I don't want to do that this time."

"I get that. I'm still having my dumb mom guilt thing about going back to work at all. The only thing that makes me feel better about it is that they're with my mom. I think she likes having a second chance to do things right."

"Despite everything you both went through, she did good with you." Brittany smiles. "You wouldn't be the kind and thoughtful person you are today if you didn't have a good influence in your life."

"She really did try. She was a victim of him too, I have to keep reminding myself of that."

"I'm glad you both got away."

"Not without scars…as you know."

"I do." Brittany traces her fingers up the line on Santana's breast. "But they make you more beautiful to me."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me feel the way you do. All the things I've always been ashamed of, you make them so easy to talk about. I never talked about my father before you. Mercedes knew because she was there for some of the big things, but even Kurt, who's one of my best friends in the world, has no idea some of the hell I've been through."

"Because it's easy to talk to someone when you love them. I don't go around telling people about my sister, or about Liam. I'm sure most people at the hospital assume he's my biological son, and that's okay. I don't ever feel like I need to broadcast my business to anyone."

"You told me before you loved me." Santana bites her lip.

"I think part of me always knew that I was going to love you someday. Even when you drove me absolutely insane."

"I was hurting, and I took it out on the wrong people."

"I know, and I understand it. Your experience told me to distrust people like me, and that's valid. I'm surprised you and Mercedes stayed so close after she went into cardio."

"My father's profession was never what hurt me, I think that's why. I forget that he's a cardio thoracic surgeon sometimes. He never talked about the surgeries he did, he just bragged to everyone who would listen that he _was_ a surgeon. Part of that is why I went to medical school, I didn't want it to be something he could hold over me anymore. If I was on his level, then I'd finally be valid. But he never saw me become a doctor, so…"

"It's his loss. I didn't know you before you were _you,_ but even putting aside everything else, you're this amazing surgeon, and he should be sorry he's missing it."

"He's probably too busy thinking about himself to even consider that I'm gone. He wasn't exactly expressing any kind of remorse when I saw him a few months ago."

"I know, and I hate that. You deserve so much more than what he ever gave you."

"I found that with you, Brittany. Since you've come into my life, I've found a family. I have you, I have three beautiful boys, I've fixed things with my mom. That's more than I ever thought I'd have."

"You're more than I ever thought I'd have too, Santana. You've given me the life I always wanted."


	76. Chapter 76

Neither Santana nor Brittany expect it, but Brittany gets a call from Chief Sylvester asking her to take over as interim chief of surgery. Santana doesn't know the details, but apparently she's having some sort of family crisis that is going to send her out of town indefinitely. She thinks it surprises Brittany more than anyone, given the fact that Shelby, Holly, and most of the other department heads have been there much longer than she is, but according to Sue, Brittany is the one that she wants and Santana is immensely proud of her wife.

Of course, she doesn't realize at first what a strain this is going to put on their already tight schedule. Gone are the days where Brittany and Santana go to work and leave together. Brittany ends up taking a cab to work sometimes as early as six in the morning and doesn't end up getting home some nights until after eleven. The kids miss Brittany, Brittany misses the kids, and Santana finds herself getting extremely frustrated at the entire situation. She knows she shouldn't, but she just can't help but feel irritated that she hardly gets to see her wife, all because Sue is having some kind of emergency.

She's in bed half asleep one night after having gotten up to put Liam back to bed when Brittany finally comes in from work. Santana keeps her eyes half-closed as Brittany undoes her blouse, pulls off her skirt and puts a t-shirt on over her panties. She goes in the bathroom for awhile and Santana is almost asleep again when Brittany crawls into bed and kisses her on the lips. Santana doesn't really feel like having a conversation since she's exhausted and will probably have to wake up in an hour to nurse, but Brittany is there being so sweet that she can't help herself.

"You're finally home." She murmurs, rolling over onto her side.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. Things were really hectic and I just couldn't get out."

"Did you have dinner? I saved you a plate."

"I grabbed a croissant from the cafeteria and ate it in my office. If I were to eat dinner this late, I'd never fall asleep."

"Okay."

"Are you mad?"

"I'm not mad."

Santana rolls over and falls back to sleep, trying to keep it to herself that she's really annoyed by this whole situation. When Oliver wakes up to nurse, Santana looks over at Brittany sleeping soundly. She huffs to herself and pulls down her tank top, wincing a little when Ollie bites down with his gums on her nipple. Just as he's finishing, Max wakes up and she feels like she's never going to get back to sleep. It's a lot, working full time and dealing with three kids when she gets home and she knows she shouldn't take it out on Brittany, but this wasn't in their plans when they decided to have another kid. When she finally gets to go back to sleep, she finds that she can do nothing but toss and turn, so when she hears Brittany get up in the morning, she's utterly miserable and just pretends that she's asleep.

The work day is hell. She's in surgery almost the entire day and when she finally gets to leave the hospital, her feet and her back are sore. All she wants to do is go to bed, but she has to cook dinner and bathe the boys and do bedtime all on her own. She's not used to this and she doesn't think she ever will be. When she gets home, she's snappish with her mom and tries not to be short with Liam when he has a fit about his favorite pajamas being in the laundry. It feels like every insecurity she's had about motherhood is coming to fruition and when she finally flops down on the couch with a glass of wine, she thinks that she should just scream and make herself feel better.

"Hey." Brittany comes into the living room and Santana offers her a half-hearted smile. "You're still up."

"Yeah, well, it's only ten o'clock, so you're home early."

"Santana."

"Don't _Santana_ me like I'm being unreasonable." She snaps. "I think I'm well within my rights as your wife to be pretty fucking pissed off."

"Because I'm doing my job?"

"Because your job doesn't exactly fit in with our plan."

"Do you think it was Sue's plan for her mother to be sick?"

"To be honest, I don't really give a shit about Sue's plan. I give a shit that I'm tired and cranky and our kids haven't seen you since _Sunday_ when you had to leave the park because there was an emergency at the damn hospital."

"I'm the acting chief of surgery. I don't exactly have a choice right now. We talked about this before I accepted Sue's offer, and now you're getting pissy with me about it?"

"Well what was I supposed to say? No, don't take the job that could actually shape the rest of your career? What kind of shitty wife would that make me?"

"So instead, you're choosing to yell at me for doing the thing we agreed I should do? That seems like the way to go about it."

"What I'm hearing is that you're calling me a shitty wife."

"You're hearing what you want to hear." Brittany huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "All I'm saying is that you're being unfair to me."

"Oh, right, I'm the bad guy. Sorry that I'd like to see my wife once in a while."

"You think I don't want that too? You think I don't miss my kids?"

"All I know is that I'm doing double duty and I'm in over my head. I could really use you around."

"Santana, you know that I can't do that right now."

"Yeah well…fine." Santana grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and pulls it around herself. "I'm sleeping down here tonight."

"The boys—"

"There are bottles in the fridge. It's your turn."

Santana refuses to say another word to Brittany, instead, she gets up to get her sleeping pill and she falls asleep on the couch. When she wakes up in the morning, her breasts feel like rocks and she can see that Brittany's shoes aren't by the door. All that does is piss her off more and she goes upstairs, waking Max up so she can get some goddamn relief. His nursing is painful and Santana almost cries at the sensation, wanting the milk out of her, but not wanting to have to suffer through the pain of making it happen.

"Mommy Noodle?" Liam comes into the bedroom rubbing his sleepy eyes. "Where's Mama?"

"Mama left for work already, Sir." She forces a smile. "But hopefully you'll see her tonight."

"You sayed that yesterday."

"You're right, I did say it yesterday. Mama's just very busy at her job. Remember, she's the big boss right now?"

"I like it when she's just a regular doccer."

"I like that too, Li, trust me."

All morning, Santana checks her phone expecting a text message from Brittany, but when none comes, she gets even more angry. At lunch, she considers going to Brittany's office, but if they're going to fight again, she doesn't want it to be in the hospital. Instead, she goes to Mercedes' office and finds her already eating a sandwich at her desk.

"So I guess you're not available for lunch today?" Santana rolled her eyes and Mercedes looked up from her meal.

"What bit your ass today?"

"Nothing, why does everyone seem to think that the problem is with me?"

"Well considering you came in here pissed off that I was eating a sandwich, I would say because it is. Does this have to do with Brittany or what?"

"Are you going to think I'm being a bitch?"

"If you are, then yes." Mercedes sucked her teeth and put her sandwich down. "You know I tell you like it is."

"What would you do if Sam was never home?"

"Would the reason Sam was never home be because he's the acting chief of surgery at a major New York hospital?"

"Why are you being so flippant about this?" Santana plopped down in one of the chairs in front of Mercedes' desk and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I'm not being flippant, I'm just saying that it's a temporary thing and you have to live with it while it lasts."

"Okay, and what about when it's not a temporary thing? Obviously Brittany is going to be the next chief of surgery at this hospital and does that mean that I'm stuck doing all the mom duty while she gets to do all the hospital stuff?"

"Do I detect a little jealously?"

"No! I'm one hundred percent not jealous of good things happening in Brittany's career. When Sue called her that night and told her she needed her to step in, I gave Brittany like…six orgasms."

"Didn't need to know that, but thanks for the information."

"I'm thrilled that she's going to be the next chief, but I just don't know what that means for me and our marriage."

"So wait, let me get this straight, you think that Brittany, who you're head over heels in love with and who's head over heels in love with you is going to have a hard time maintaining a marriage and a career?"

"Do you have to say it like I'm completely insane?"

"Okay, first of all, you know Sue Sylvester is not going to actually retire for like twenty-five years, right? That bitch is going to be working until she's in her eighties, you'll long be head of a department and your kids will be out of college. And second, it won't be her temporarily doing the job so she won't be taken by surprise by all the crap she has to do and be here constantly. You're overreacting."

"Gee thanks."

"Okay, I'm just being honest because you sound like you need it. You don't stalk into my office when things are good."

"Well it really sucks right now."

"Yeah, well, that's relationships kid."

After Santana leaves Mercedes' office, she grabs a sandwich in the cafeteria and considers going to Brittany's office. She debates with herself for a long while before finally making the decision to just talk to her. She's so not good at these conversations and she's still frustrated, but she also slept like shit and hates fighting with her wife so she goes up there and sees that the door is shut. She knocks slowly and Brittany calls out for her to come in. She's surrounded by paperwork on her desk and Santana feels a little sympathetic, realizing that she's only been thinking about how this effects her, not how it effects Brittany.

"Hey." She mumbles. "Are you busy?"

"It depends. Are you here to argue with me? Because I really don't have the time for it."

"No. I'm just…here."

"Okay, well. Sit I guess. I have to get this all done today."

"We can talk when you get home if you want."

"Santana, look, I really don't have the time for this. Just please say what you need to say or I'm going to end up sleeping on the couch here tonight. Not that it would matter, I guess, since I slept alone last night anyway."

"So you're mad at me?"

"Yes, honestly, I am." Brittany adjusts her glasses and pushes one of the papers to the side. "We had a conversation about this and you agreed that it was a good idea. Now that it's happening you're mad and I wish you would have just been honest with me from the get go."

"I already told you—"

"I know what you told me, but did you stop to think about how I would have reacted if you told me it was too much? I know you've had a lot this year and if I thought it was going to be like this, I never would have done this for Sue."

"Okay but don't you see how that makes me sound? Like a selfish bitch."

"I wouldn't have thought you were selfish if you needed me at home for your well being. Now I think it's a little selfish that you're pissed off at me when you didn't communicate your reservations to begin with."

"I didn't know it was going to be like this. I thought it would be a little more work and I'd still get to see you."

"Santana, I'm running my own department and then the entire rest of the surgical staff. This is like the job I already have times ten. I thought you were aware of that and the fact that it's only temporary."

"Okay, I get that, but we have two infants and a child at home. I'm used to having two sets of hands to manage that."

"Look, I'm sorry I haven't been home and maybe had I known what it was going to entail, I wouldn't have agreed to do it, but the point is, I did, and I could really use your support."

"I'm sorry." Santana takes a deep breath. "I didn't think about how hard this was on you."

"I miss you, I miss the kids. I need you to understand that."

"I do…it just really sucks and I wish Sue would come back."

"I'm at least learning that this isn't something I can do permanently while the kids are little."

"I'm overwhelmed at home."

"I know." Brittany nods. "You're doing double duty in the morning and at night."

"Thank God I went back to work, if I was home all day too I would probably lose my mind. Sometimes I feel like I'm not cut out to be a mom."

"I think the kids feel very differently on that."

"I hate fighting with you." Santana sighs, picking at her cuticles.

"We don't do it very often."

"I know. But when we do, I feel like I'm going to die."

"Santana." Brittany bites her lip. "It's really bad if we keep things inside. We were both frustrated, we needed to get it out."

"How can you be so cool, calm and collected all the time? When we fight I'm afraid you're going to realize you're too good for me and leave me."

"I love you, Santana, but I need you to be able to reassure yourself sometimes. Just because we had a fight doesn't mean I'm going to leave you."

"I just feel like you're too good sometimes. You never lose your patience with me."

"I'm not a saint. I've got my own things that go on in my head, but I never want it to become a thing between us."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to coddle me."

"That's not how I feel. I was upset with you today and I let you know."

"I shouldn't have slept on the couch last night, I should have had this conversation with you at home instead of coming into your office to have it."

"You're right." Brittany nods. "Look, I want to try and get home earlier tonight but I can't do that unless I get this paperwork done."

"Okay. I'll leave you do it."

"Come here, give me a kiss first."

After Santana kisses Brittany, she feels a little better than she did earlier. She goes into surgery and she doesn't feel like her head is going to explode, which is definitely a good thing. Once her day is done, she sends Brittany a text to tell her she's headed home and Brittany texts back that she'll try to be there within the next hour. She says that she wants to do bedtime tonight and Santana smiles a little, even though she knows there's a possibility it won't happen.

When Santana gets home, Max is crying. She takes a breath then takes him from her mother. The moment she gets him into her arms she can feel that he has a high fever. She's a little shocked that her mother didn't notice it, but she tries not to panic in front of Liam. Instead, she takes him upstairs and she gets him in the bathtub, trying to lower his body temperature. In her head, she knows that she should take him to the hospital, but considering she's a pediatric surgeon, she feels like she should be able to handle this on her own.

"Santana, is everything alright?" Her mother pokes her head into the bathroom when Santana keeps dribbling water over Max's chest.

"I'm just trying to get his body temperature down. How long has he felt warm?"

"These boys always feel a little warm to me, and it's warm in the house, I didn't notice anything was wrong. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"It's fine, Mom. I just need to get his fever down."

"Should I call Brittany?"

"No." Santana shakes her head. "She's busy enough as it is, I can deal with this."

"Are you—"

"I'm sure, Ma. Can you just stay and keep an eye on Liam and Oliver?"

"Of course, just call me if you need me."

Santana keeps Max in the bathtub until he begins to shiver. She takes him out and wraps him in a towel, holding him close to her chest. Going into the bathroom cabinet, she takes out the baby Tylenol and fights him to get him to take a dose of it. He's so strong willed and even as she blows on his face, he manages to spit some of it all over the towel. She sighs heavily and wishes she could get him to stop crying. It's times like this when she feels so inadequate. She's a mother and a doctor and it shouldn't be so difficult to get her son to take some damn Tylenol.

Forgoing getting dinner ready, she lays down on the bed with Max in just a diaper and wrapped in a blanket and she lets him nurse. He cries even as she does it and Santana just wishes she knew how to make it stop. She's a half hour into it when Brittany comes into the bedroom and has concern written all over her face. Santana takes a deep breath and shakes her head, telling her without words how helpless she feels. Just as she goes to say something, Max vomits milk all over her.

"Maxie, baby." Santana coos. "It's okay, Mommy's got you."

"Babe, what can I do?"

"Just get me a new shirt." She shakes her head. "He's not going to let me put him down. My mom doesn't know how long he's had a fever for."

"Do you want to take him to the hospital?"

"I don't know…we're both doctors, we should be able to handle it."

Maribel ends up staying the night with Liam and Oliver and neither Santana nor Brittany sleep. Finally, at one in the morning, after Max has thrown up for the fourth time, they get him in the car and take him to the hospital. Santana sits in the backseat holding his little hands, even though he's finally fallen into a feverish sleep.

"I was wrong." Santana sniffles. "We should have taken him earlier."

"You made a call, Santana. You didn't realize how sick he was going to get. It's probably just a stomach bug, he's going to be okay."

"What if Ollie gets it? We don't know how he'll do…"

"Let's just worry about one kid at a time, okay? We'll get Max some fluids and he'll be just fine."

"How can you be so confident?"

"How can you not?"

"Because I see sick babies all the time who don't get better. I'm fucking terrified, Brittany." Santana snaps, unable to control herself.

"I know you are, but I need you to calm down. You don't do anyone well when you're like this."

"Well I'm fucking sorry that I'm freaking out about our sick kid."

"Santana, I don't want to fight with you. I want him to be okay as much as you do, but you know that it's not good for you when you get like this."

"I don't care about me." Santana says, resigned. "I only care about him."

"I care about both of you, and you're more useful to him when you can take a breath."

They get to the hospital and Santana sees Dr. Meeks, one of the pediatric residents that she knows from transferring cases. She feels a little calmer, knowing that someone on staff is someone she's worked with before and he escorts them himself to an exam room. Santana thinks maybe of all the things she loves about being a doctor, having preferential treatment for her kids might be her favorite. Max wakes up and screams while he's examined by the doctor and Santana sits stone faced beside Brittany, wanting nothing more than to scoop him up and comfort him.

"It looks like just a bad case of the stomach virus that's going around." Meeks tells them. "He's a little dehydrated, so I want to put him on some fluids and keep him a few hours for observation."

"But he's okay?" Brittany asks, leaning over the little basinet to look at her son.

"He's going to be just fine, Dr. Pierce. We've had quite a few cases of this just this week, and each child has been back to normal in a day or so."

"Thank God." Santana murmurs, though she's not particularly religious. "It's okay, sweet boy, Mommy and Mama are here."

"I'd suggest if you could get him to nurse that would be helpful. But he may not take breast milk just now."

"I'll try. Anything I can do for him."

Santana picks up Max and Dr. Meeks was right. He refuses her breast and she doesn't breathe again until he's on IV fluids and sleeping soundly in Brittany's arms. She feels like she's not cut out for sick kids of her own, everything scares her, but Brittany is just so calm. All she wants is to ever feel a sense of peace, but with the little hospital band on Max's wrist, she knows she's far from it.

"You should go home." Santana tells Brittany finally. "I'm calling Shelby and taking the day off but you have to work."

"I'll go to work tired. I'm not leaving either of you."

"We'd be fine here. Honestly."

"I wouldn't be fine knowing I wasn't here with you. I'm not leaving."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Thank you for that. I'm just…we just."

"We have unresolved stuff right now that we both thought we'd deal with tonight, but it's not the time."

Santana offers to take Max from Brittany, but she tells her it's fine, that she wants to hold him. The two of them sleep fitfully side by side in hospital chairs and when Santana wakes up in the morning, Brittany looks like absolute hell. She has no idea how she's going to be able to work, because Santana certainly knows she couldn't do it. Brittany runs her hands through her hair and Santana watches her, really understanding for the first time how hard she's trying to balance her temporary role as chief and her permanent role as a mother. It actually pains Santana to think of what a bitch she'd been about it and she sucks in a deep breath of air as Max begins to stir.

"I really should shower before I see my first patient today." Brittany murmurs softly, transferring Max to Santana's arms so he can nurse. "I would probably kill to be able to take the day off."

"Thank you for staying with me last night. I just…It was important to me to have you here."

"I know. It was important to me too. I would never have been able to sleep at home knowing that my son was in the hospital and I wasn't there."

"I understand it, Britt, that you're doing your best. I really do, more than I said I did yesterday when we talked."

"Being a mom is the most important thing there is to me. Being a wife is a very close second. I think about before I got Liam and how I thought the best thing that would ever happen to me was becoming chief of surgery. Don't get me wrong, Santana, I still want that at some point, but it'll never compare to what I already have."

"It's been a really emotional night, you're going to make me cry." Santana adjusts Max on her breast and breathes a sigh of relief that he takes it. "He's eating."

"I'm so glad." Brittany stands and kisses Santana's head, then leans to kiss Max's. "Are you okay if I go?"

"I'm okay. I'm just going to wait for Dr. Meeks to discharge him before his shift ends and then beg my mother to stay through the day so I can bring Max into bed with me and sleep."

"I love you a lot, Santana Lopez, I hope you know that."

"I love you a lot too, baby."


	77. Chapter 77

It takes a few days for Max to get back to normal. Luckily Liam and Oliver don't get the virus but Santana doesn't go back to work until he's feeling better. Brittany, for her part, brings a lot of paperwork home with her so she doesn't stay at the hospital all night while Max is sick. Santana can tell that she's really overwhelmed and she wishes there was something she could do to help her. She figures that the only thing that'll actually be helpful is to not fight with her and after that night at the hospital, she doesn't even feel like she's mad at her anymore. It's just temporary, they'll get through it.

When Santana goes back to work, she has an overwhelming caseload. The surgical calendar in peds has been so full that no one could take her surgeries while she was out and she just has to do them all. She's halfway through her day when she gets a page that there's an emergency for her in the pit. She looks at the board and knows that she's going to have to push off an appendectomy until later in the day. It's not an emergency and if she can just deal with whatever is going on down there, she'll be able to have a clear head when she gets into her next surgery.

There was a car accident. She finds a little boy screaming with glass in his chest and he can't be much older than Liam. She wonders how in the hell he got so much glass in him being in the backseat, but then the paramedic tells her that his car seat wasn't buckled in properly and he was ejected through the front windshield. Marley Rose finds her sitting at his bedside making a surgical plan with her interns and Santana takes a breath, bracing for what's about to come next.

"Cecile Frank's appendix burst." She tells her. "Adams walked out of her surgery to deal with it. Dr. Corcoran wants to see you in her office."

"Goddamnit Rose, I'm in the middle of an emergency, it's gonna have to wait."

"Hey, I'm just the messenger. Tell Shelby I'll be in there after I remove eleven shards of glass from a five year old's chest. Whatever it is, it can wait."

She gets Thomas Harper up to the surgical floor and she's glad to find that Mercedes answered her cardio page. She's concerned about how close some off the glass is to the little boy's heart and she doesn't want to go in without backup. They scrub in together and luckily, the surgery goes off without a hitch. Still though, Santana makes a mental note to check all of the boys' car seats and she takes five minutes to grab a cup of coffee before she goes up to Shelby's.

"Santana." Shelby looks up from her desk. "Sit."

"Okay…"

"Did you push back Cecile Frank's surgery today?"

"Yeah, I—?"

"Did you know when you did that Dr. Adams was doing a hernia surgery that could have waited an hour?"

"It was an appendectomy, Shelby. I got paged to the pit for a kid who was massively internal bleeding because he had shards of glass sticking out of his body."

"And Cecile's appendix burst, almost killing her."

"I had to make a call."

"Well you made the wrong one." Shelby put her elbows on the desk. "Alexander Frank was threatening to sue us before Cecile was even in surgery and the hospital got a call from his lawyer about an hour ago."

"Shelby, we've all made wrong calls before."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I can protect you from this lawsuit. You're going to have to meet with legal and if they can't settle this out of court, you're probably going to have to testify."

"Testify to what?" Santana gasps.

"To the fact that in your expert opinion, you didn't believe Cecile Thomas was in any danger by having her surgery pushed back."

"I didn't. Is she…?"

"She's in recovery. Dr. Adams took care of it."

"Jesus. I'm sorry, Shelby, it was just going to be a couple of hours."

"It was a couple of hours too many. Look, I know you, I know you're a good doctor and I'll be by your side through the whole thing, okay?"

"Okay." Santana nods.

"You need to go up and meet with Brittany and legal."

"Brittany my wife?"

"Brittany the acting chief of surgery."

Santana feels like her world is tilting off its axis. She'd done what she thought was the right thing and now here she is, three hours later, in the midst of some kind of legal drama. She doesn't even know what is going to happen with Brittany being her wife and also in charge of the surgical department and even thinking about it as she gets in the elevator makes her head hurt. She goes to the conference room that Shelby sent her to and Brittany is sitting in there with a bunch of lawyers. Santana feels sick to her stomach as she sits down, wishing that Brittany could take her into her arms and tell her that it's going to be okay. But she can't. They both have to be professional right now and all they can spare is a quick glance across the table.

"Dr. Lopez, you understand why you're here?" One of the lawyers asks.

"I'm supposed to give my version of events so you can see if you can manage a settlement."

"Look, the last thing we want is a case against this hospital or a case against your medical license. We're here to prevent that."

"Okay." She nods, looking at Brittany, who also nods.

"So tell us what happened over the course of today."

"I've been catching up on my surgeries. We're down an attending in the department and I was out with my sick son for most of the week. I checked Cecile on my rounds this morning and she was stable, she was brought in overnight with stomach pains and assigned to me. When I got a page from the emergency room that I was needed, I pushed back Cecile's surgery two hours. There was no indication in her testing that her appendix would burst in that period of time. I had a patient in the ER who was thrown through the window in a car accident. He had massive shards of glass in his chest and I did a joint surgery with Dr. Jones in cardio."

"And Dr. Jones wasn't able to do that surgery on her own?"

"I'm a pediatric surgeon, I got the page. I needed to be in that room with her."

"And you're aware that Dr. Unique Adams had an opening in his schedule and could have taken Cecile's appendectomy?"

"I wasn't aware until after the fact. We've been so overbooked that I didn't even assume anyone had an opening. I was in a rush to get down to the ER."

"And would you have made the same call if you knew that Cecile's life was in danger?"

"No!" Santana protests "I only made the call I did because I was confident given her tests that she'd be fine, if not a little uncomfortable, for the next few hours."

"And what about your patient in the emergency room?"

"I…don't know. Look, the problem is that we're understaffed. You can spin it however you want but we need another pediatric surgeon."

"Dr. Pierce?" The lawyer turns to her and Santana's chest hurts.

"I'm only the acting chief of surgery, I can't make big budgetary decisions." Brittany tells them.

"When it impacts that standard of care at this hospital, you need to."

"I'll be in touch with Dr. Sylvester and Dr. Corcoran." Brittany affirms and Santana could tell she was trying not to look at her.

"We'll be in touch with you further, Dr. Lopez. Like I said earlier, we're going to try to settle out of court but it's still only hours past when we received notification from Mr. Thomas' lawyer. There's a possibility that you could be put on administrative leave pending a hearing."

"What? No! You can't do that!"

"Hospital policy. Again, we'll be in touch and do will Dr. Pierce."

"Fuck." Santana mutters under her breath, staving back tears. Her wife is going to have to suspend her, she could have a malpractice case against her, she could lose everything.

Without another word, Santana stands up and walks out of the conference room. All she wants to do is talk to her wife but she can't with all of these lawyers around. Instead, she goes back to her office, pumps her breasts and then puts her head down and cries. She still has two more surgeries before her day is over and she goes into the OR trying to keep herself together. When she is done with the second one, she goes back to her office and Brittany is standing outside.

"I'm coming home with you today." She says softly.

"Didn't I just make a fuck ton more paperwork for you?"

"I don't care. Tonight I'm your wife, not the acting chief of surgery. We'll talk more when we leave the hospital."

They are silent on their way out to the parking garage. When they get in the car, Santana lays her head against the passenger side window and sighs heavily. Brittany takes up her hand and squeezes it hard, assuring her that she's there.

"What if you have to suspend me?"

"I can't. HR is fully aware of our marriage, if they put you on leave, Shelby will be the one to do it. But Santana, you don't know how many things like this have come across my desk just in the last few weeks. The hospital doesn't want bad publicity, Roger Thomas wants money, they're going to settle out of court and you're going to be just fine."

"How can you be so sure? Horrible things happen to me."

"Good things happen to you too. I will do everything in my power to keep you from going through a court case."

"I can't lose my job, Britt."

"You're not going to lose your job. I spoke to Shelby, she knows damn well that you did what you had to do today. I've been there too, you put the more pressing patient first."

"It was a stupid appendectomy compared to a kid who got thrown through a windshield."

"I know." Brittany nods, pulling out of the garage. "I don't doubt you, honey."

Santana is quiet for the rest of the drive home. She's just obsessing and she needs to take her anxiety medication. The house is a mess when they walk in the door and Santana pinches the bridge of her nose. She doesn't expect her mother to spend the day cleaning up after Liam but the sight of the mess overwhelms her and she sinks down into the couch before she even goes to find the boys. Brittany gives her a concerned look but Santana just shakes her head before burying it in her hands.

"Mommy Noodle, do you have a headache?" Liam asks when he bounds into the room.

"I little bit, bud. I had a hard day at work."

"I made you a picture today. I even used glitter."

"You did?" Santana gathers him into her arms and holds him close. "My little guy."

"Ollie stopped screamin' so he won't hurt your head, don't worry."

"Ollie was screaming?"

"For a really, really long time. He didn't want to take a nap and then I couldn't take a nap and Maxie couldn't take a nap."

"Then I guess we're going to have to go to bed early tonight, huh?"

"We still have to eat dinner." He tells her as Brittany comes in holding Oliver and Maribel trails behind her with Max.

"I think we're just going to get pizza tonight, Li, and take baths while we wait for it to come. How about we give Mommy the night off? I think she deserves it."

"I can help, Britt."

"Just relax, you've been doing it all yourself. Have a glass of wine, lay on the couch, I've got this under control."

Santana doesn't protest. She says goodbye to her mother and goes in the kitchen to pour a glass of red. From upstairs, she can hear bath time going on but she sprawls out on the couch and watches a rerun of _Friends_ while she pumps her breasts before she drinks anything. When the doorbell rings with the pizza, she goes to get it and she starts cutting up Liam's pizza before she makes plates for her and Brittany. She goes upstairs because she knows Brittany is putting the twins to bed and she kisses them goodnight, lingering a bit over them before she, Brittany and Liam go down to have dinner.

She lays on Liam's bed afterwards while Brittany reads to him and then she goes back to the couch, staring blankly at the television screen. No matter what Brittany says, she doesn't feel confident that this is going to be resolved. Everything is just a few hours old and it already feels like a mess, so she doesn't know what it will be like when the hospital gets the actual legal paperwork from the Thomases lawyer.

"Santana, did you take your medication?" Brittany asks, coming down from changing and sitting beside her.

"Yeah, I did."

"Honey, I know you're upset—"

"This has never happened to me before. I'm so careful all the time. My reputation…"

"It's happened to me." Brittany murmurs.

"It has?"

"Once, when I first got out of my residency. I did a skin graft on this woman's face and she ended up with a really nasty infection. I had no idea what was about to happen when I went into my department head's office."

"She sued?"

"She did. I was a mess for weeks, all I could see was my career going down the drain. I thought I was going to have a malpractice suit and my dreams of being the chief of surgery were going to go down the drain. The hospital settled for a half a million dollars. Everyone knew there was nothing I could have done to prevent it, but taking it to court would have done nothing but damage my reputation and the Brigham's. That's how I know the legal team at Columbia Pres is going to take care of this and you're not going to be caught up in it."

"I felt like I was in an interrogation room before. Like, if I didn't answer everything exactly right, I was going to lose my job."

"I know. I wish I could have been in there as your wife and not your chief."

"I'm glad you were in there at all. It's just…better when you're around."

"I'm here for you, always."

"I was totally shitty at the mom thing tonight."

"You weren't. You've had your hands full with these kids for weeks, you deserved a night off."

"Does this mean you're going to have to work really late tomorrow?" Santana asks.

"It might. I think I'm going to go in early, try to get some things done before the chaos of the day starts. I have to talk to Shelby and Sue about hiring someone in your department."

"Shelby has been trying to get Sue to let her do it for awhile."

"Well I think the word _lawsuit_ will convince her that it's time. You shouldn't have been put in the position you were put in today. If we want to be the best hospital in the world, we need to hire like we are."

"You're really good at being the chief."

"I honestly have no idea what I'm doing." Brittany laughs a little.

"Yes you do. You're good at it, take the compliment."

"We'll see what Sue thinks when she gets back."

"You're a shoe in for the job someday. The whole hospital knows it."

"There hasn't been a plastic surgeon as chief of surgery in fifty years."

"There hasn't been a plastic surgeon like you iever./i"

"I love you for saying that."

"I only say what I mean."

Brittany and Santana go up to bed and after Brittany revealed her own past, Santana slept a little better than she would have otherwise. Brittany is gone when Santana gets up to nurse the boys at 5:30 and as much as she hates waking up alone, she hopes that it means she won't have to go to bed alone. She makes breakfast for her and Liam and dreads going into work where she's going to have to deal with more of the fallout from yesterday.

"Was everything okay yesterday?" Her mother asks when she gets there.

"Not really. Someone is suing the because I pushed back their daughter's appendectomy to do an emergency surgery and then her appendix burst. I'm going to have to deal with a bunch of crap until it's settled."

" _Mija_ , that's terrible. Is your job okay?"

"I guess so. I don't really know anything yet, I gave a statement to the legal team yesterday so we'll see what happens. You know, it just pisses me off. I had a botched boob job and that man kept his job for how many years. I save a kid's life and this is where I am."

"Your father never would have let us sue."

"Yeah, because he's an asshole and the reason why I had the surgery in the first place."

"I'm not disagreeing with you there. If only—"

"Ma, we don't have to rehash it. You were as much of a victim as I was."

"You're still my child."

"It's behind us, okay?" Santana begs her to drop it, not really wanting to add talking about the trauma of her childhood to a day that was already bound to be stressful. "I have to run, the last thing I need is to be late."

Santana kisses Liam and the twins goodbye and makes her way to the hospital. She half expects her name to be off the surgical board when she gets there, but it isn't and after she does her rounds, she scrubs in for her first surgery. She is glad to have Heyward on her service so she doesn't have to act like a babysitter and after the first surgery, she gets her a cup of coffee.

 _Lunch?_ Mercedes texts her and Santana realizes that's exactly what she needs.

She does one more surgery and then heads up to Mercedes' office. She's engrossed in some file and Santana taps on the door frame alerting her of her arrival.

"Let's get the hell out of this hospital." Mercedes closes the file and Santana nods in agreement.

They go to the little Thai restaurant around the corner and Santana orders noodles and cheese rolls. She'd barely been able to keep down dinner last night so she realizes that she's really hungry.

"So I might be getting sued." She tells Mercedes, sipping her iced tea. "Because of our surgery yesterday."

"What? He's doing fine, I checked on him this morning."

"Yeah, not by his family. I pushed back an appendectomy to do the surgery and the kid's appendix burst."

"Well how were you supposed to know that was going to happen?"

"Exactly." Santana rolls her eyes. "I had to meet with legal last night and Brittany was there and I've gotta tell you, kinda fucking sucks when your wife is the chief."

"Can she do anything?"

"If I get suspended she's not going to do it. Conflict of interest or whatever. She thinks they'll settle out of court."

"All these people ever want is money, she's probably right."

"I'm distracted." Santana confesses. "I've never been distracted in my career before, but I know that I am. Coming back from Max being sick, I've been worried Oliver is next. I don't know if it's throwing me off my game or what."

"It absolutely is not. I was in surgery with you yesterday, you're completely on point. So surgery isn't the sole focus of your life anymore, I've been telling you for years that was unhealthy."

"It just feels weird to me. I mean remember those times where I wouldn't leave the hospital for days?"

"Yeah, completely sick. Shelby threw you out of the on call room on more than one occasion."

"Don't get me wrong, I love being a mom, I just want to make sure I'm still a great surgeon too."

"You're one of the best. We all know that Brittany is going to be chief of surgery one day and I don't see you being head of your department because you hate paperwork but that doesn't mean you won't be one of the best peds surgeons in the country."

"So you really don't think I'm losing my touch?"

"I know you're not. You're just learning balance."

After lunch, Santana feels a little less unsettled. She does her afternoon surgeries and she's glad she doesn't get called to Shelby's office. When her shift is over, she goes to Brittany's office and finds her swamped with paperwork. She sits down across from her desk and grabs her hand over the mess that's between them.

"I'm ready for Sue to come back now." Brittany says honestly. "I need like ten more years before I'm ready to handle this. I haven't done a surgery in two days…"

"Babe."

"The crap that goes on in surgical is insane. I'm still running plastics while I'm doing this, no human being should have this much paperwork."

"Mercedes made the point at lunch today that I'll never be the head of my department because I hate paperwork so much."

"You're also a brilliant surgeon."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Santana offers.

"I wish." Brittany sighs. "But you should get home to the boys. I'm really going to try and get out of here in the next hour."

"When is Sue even going to give you an estimate of when she's coming back?"

"She promised me that this week she'd know. She knows everything that's going on with you, so I think she feels a sense of urgency to get back so I'm not put in a compromising position, but it also depends on her mom."

"I feel like…we still never really got to talk about everything after we had that fight."

"I know." Brittany nods. "With Max getting sick and then all this new stuff, it hasn't felt like the time."

"Can we maybe try tonight? I don't like feeling like there's something between us."

"I'll be home as soon as I can, then we can talk about anything you want."

Santana kisses Brittany goodbye and then she drives home. Things are actually calm at the house when she gets there and she thanks her mom before taking over. She nurses the twins and then starts dinner. Liam sits at the table playing with his trains and he talks away to her about his day. She loves hearing about all of the things he did with her mom and she tries to listen intently while she breads chicken cutlets and cooks rice. She's just getting dinner on the table when Brittany walks in the door and she's so glad that she'll actually be able to eat with them for a second night in a row.

"Mama!" Liam runs to her. "You came home!"

"I did." She smiles. "I miss having dinner with my boys."

"And your Mommy Noodle."

"And my Mommy Noodle. Babe, what can I do to help?"

"Nothing." Santana pulls the chicken out of the oven. "Everything's ready, I was just about to move Max and Oliver off the table."

"Let me see you guys." Brittany picked up Oliver's seat and kissed him before setting it on the floor, then did the same to Max. "You two are getting sleepy."

"It's because it's almost bedtime, Mama."

"That's true, it is. You better eat up your dinner quick so we can take a nice long bath."

"And then books!"

"Definitely then books."

Max squawks a little during dinner, so Brittany picks him up and holds him while she eats. When they are finished, Liam helps load the dishes in the dishwasher and then they go up to start bath time. They bathe the twins together and then Santana takes them in the bedroom to get their pajamas on and nurse while Brittany takes care of Liam. When she is finished and Max and Oliver are asleep, Santana goes into Liam's room for the tail end of his book time. She kisses him goodnight and they leave him with his nightlight on before going out into the hallway.

"How about a bath?" Brittany suggests and Santana nods, following her into their bathroom.

After the tub is run and Brittany gets in, Santana slips in in front of her and leans back in her arms. She can feel even from the front that Brittany is tight and tense and she hopes the hot water will do her some good.

"We're okay, right?" Santana asks.

"We're okay." Brittany nods. "I know you want to talk, but as far as I'm concerned, we resolved everything."

"I just get scared sometimes. I feel like I'm off balance without you and those first few weeks when you were working like crazy were really hard on me. I want you to be the chief of surgery when your time comes and I promise I'll be better about it."

"Thank you for that. It's also a lot on you having the three kids alone after you work a full day, I get it."

"You managed to be a single mom and a department head at the same time."

"You forget that I had Liam in day care at the hospital. He was fed there, he slept there, it was a little different. Most nights, I would pick him up and put him asleep into the car. I know his life is better now that we don't have to do that and I love you so much for what an amazing mom you are."

"We're going to have to figure out what to do when I go on overnights in two weeks." Santana blushes at the compliment, but since she's not very good at taking them, changes the subject.

"I'm hoping Sue will be back by then, but if not, maybe my mom can come down from Boston and stay here. I don't want to put everything on your mom and expect her to stay late every night."

"Yeah, that might work. I kind of regret that I'm doing that shift since it's so much harder now with three kids, but Shelby asked me to…"

"Hard to believe you used to love the overnights, huh?"

"That was before I had kids whose bedtime I cared about being home for. Sorry, I'm not saying you don't…"

"I know you're not." Brittany nods. "I was really happy to be home for bedtime the last two nights. I miss my snuggle time with Li and being able to help bathe Max and Oliver. And I especially miss going to bed with you. When I come home late, you look so beautiful all curled up and I never want to wake you up to take you into my arms."

"I wouldn't complain if you did. It's hard to fall asleep when my head isn't on your chest."

"I didn't want this to be so hard on our family."

"I know." Santana sighs. "Being a surgeon in general is difficult with a family."

"I'm glad to be doing it with you though."

"So am I, Britt. So am I."


	78. Chapter 78

Santana gets the call into Shelby's office. She'd been bracing herself for it to come, but when it does, she's devastated. Shelby promises her that it's just something with legal, that they have to put her on administrative leave for two weeks while they work on the settlement, but Santana feels awful. She doesn't want to go up to Brittany's office and put her in a compromising position so she just takes a cab home. When she gets there, she tells her mom that she absolutely doesn't want to talk about it and she takes over with Liam and the twins, telling her mother that she'll be home for the next two weeks.

"Mommy Noodle, are you sick?" Liam asks.

"No, Sir, the hospital is just giving me a little break so I can spend time with my favorite boys."

"Is Mama getting a break too?"

"I wish she was, bud, but Mama's really busy, they can't spare her."

"Is she coming home to have dinner with us?"

"We'll see." Santana's smile falters. "But we'll make something good just in case."

Santana spends the day savoring the time she has with her boys but she can't help but be anxious waiting for Brittany to come home. Around 4:00 she gets a text from Brittany that just tells her she loves her and she knows the paperwork for her suspension has come across her desk. Sighing heavily, Santana tells Brittany that she loves her too, then starts dinner, trying to let Liam eat earlier than he normally does because she knows they feed him too late. After she eats with him, she makes a plate for Brittany and then she saves cleanup until after everyone is settled in bed.

She's just sitting with the twins, rocking them to sleep when Brittany comes in. She takes both Max and Oliver into her arms and Santana gives her a look of silent gratitude as she steps out and goes to Liam's room where he's playing with the trains in the floor. He pretends not to see her there and keeps playing but Santana crouches beside him and gently lifts him up into her arms.

"Time for books, Li."

"How about I read?" Brittany appears at the door.

"Mama! Mama! Will Mommy Noodle listen?"

"Of course I'll listen." Santana smiles, though smiling feels hard.

Brittany reads two books and then Liam falls asleep before she can finish the third. Santana kisses him goodnight and slips out of the room, giving Brittany a moment with him as she changes into her pajamas. When Brittany comes into the room, she doesn't say a word, she just wraps Santana in a tight embrace and for the first time today, she breaks down sobbing.

"Oh, honey." Brittany soothes, holding her close. "It's going to be okay."

"I've never been in trouble before." She cries. "My whole life..."

"Sue is coming back on Friday, she wants to deal with this herself because I'm ineffectual as acting chief when I can't get involved."

"What is she going to do?"

"She's going to deal with legal. You have a spotless record, they're just going to settle out of court. I promise you, you'll be back at work soon."

"I just...my job." Santana feels like she can do nothing but cry and she clings to Brittany like a lifeline.

"Let me take care of you tonight."

"You've had a long day..."

"My day hasn't been too long to take care of my wife who has had a much worse day than I have. Let me run you a bath and get you a glass of wine, then I'll give you a massage."

"Will you come in the tub with me?"

"If that's what you want, then yes."

Santana sits down, still sniffling, on the edge of the bed while Brittany goes into the bathroom and then goes downstairs, coming up with two glasses of red wine. They look at the twins sleeping beside the bed, and then they go into the bathroom, taking their alone time together. Once they're in the tub, Santana's whole body sighs into Brittany's and she just focuses on the feeling of her arms around her waist, drawing circles on her abdomen.

"Unique came to my office today." Brittany tells Santana quietly. "She heard what happened and she just wanted me to know that you've been her mentor and you always taught her to take the most pressing case first. Your department has your back and so does the hospital."

"I just...don't get why they had to suspend me."

"Because it makes the hospital look like they're taking the investigation seriously. As soon as there's an offer on the table then you're cleared to come back."

"It's just such bullshit. If there would have been enough staff in my goddamn department, this wouldn't have happened."

"I know and you're taking the fall for the hospital's mistake. They know that and that's why they won't keep you out long. Baby, I swear, if I could have done something..."

"Brittany." Santana sighs. "I know there was nothing you could have done. They don't even want you involved with it. Sue is coming back because it's such a disaster. And none of that even matters to me, I just feel so awful that I can't breathe."

"I know how much your job means to you, it means as much as mine does. I've been where you are and there's nothing I can say to make it better."

"Having your arms around me makes me feel like I'm not going to die. Not being able to go to you today..."

"I know." Brittany kisses her hard on the top of the head. "All I wanted was to be able to take you in my arms. But once Sue is back in charge, I can just be your wife and I can be by your side through all of it."

"I need that so much."

After they get out of the tub, Brittany wraps Santana up in a towel and leads her to the bed. Santana pulls on her softest, most comfortable pajamas and she lays down on top of the covers, letting Brittany sit on her back and massage every kink and knot out of her. Between the wine and the touching she manages to relax enough that she doesn't feel like her head is going to explode and she only cries a little while she's being massaged. When Brittany's done, she helps Santana under the blankets and Santana curls into her arms, falling asleep with her head on Brittany's chest, listening to her heartbeat.

She wakes up throughout the night to feed the boys and she never really settles into a deep sleep. There's so much stress bearing down on her and though she knows that Liam, Max and Oliver will be glad to have her home, she'll miss the hospital every second, the same way she misses the boys every second while she's there. In the morning, she wakes up to Brittany standing at the dresser getting dressed for work and she just watches her in the low light, knowing that this whole thing has caused an excess amount of stress for her as well. She hopes that maybe Sue will give her a day or two off when she gets back, let her recover from the long hours she's put in, let her just be with her family when times are trying.

"Mommy Noodle." Liam looks at her while she's feeding him breakfast. "Why are you sad?"

"Why do you think I'm sad, Li?"

"Because you was crying when you saw Mama in my bedroom and you have a frowny face on now."

"I'm sorry, buddy. I'll try to be happier, okay?"

"Mama says if we feel sad it's okay, but then she gives me lots of hugs." Liam stands from the table and goes to Santana's side, wrapping his little arms around her. "Since Mama's at work, I can give you all the hugs."

"Thank you, Liam." Santana lifts him into her arms and squeezes him tight. "I needed a hug from you today."

Santana goes through the routine of the day, cleaning up the house as best as she can since they haven't done it in awhile, nursing the twins, letting the three boys play in the living room, getting them down for naps, taking care of Liam's lunch, all the things that she thinks her mom probably does with much greater ease. While they're all napping, she sits on the couch and looks through one of her pediatric surgical journals, figuring if she can't be at work, she can at least be reading up on what's new. She's engrossed in an article when the doorbell rings and she jumps up, getting it before it rings again and wakes the boys.

"Mercedes." She opens the door. "You're on nights, why are you not sleeping?"

"I got enough. I'm here because I know you're feeling like shit and you didn't even want to call me and tell me." Mercedes comes into the house and sits down on the couch. "But we're here for each other for everything. So I'm here."

"Is it all over the hospital?"

"Girl, you know the interns gossip about everything. I heard it as soon as I got to the hospital last night but I didn't want to text you when I knew you were probably hashing it out with Brittany."

"Yeah, we were. Sylvester's coming back tomorrow, so..."

"A month ago, you would have been ecstatic about that."

"Well, it's hard to be thrilled when the reason she's coming back is because I fucked up. 'Ce, listen, can I tell you something I didn't tell Brittany?"

"Obviously. I'm here to be your sounding board."

"I'm afraid that her being married to me is going to compromise her eventual inevitable trajectory toward chief. This just sort of proved to everyone that she has a conflict of interest in the hospital."

"Oh, please." Mercedes rolls her eyes. "Everyone's got some kind of conflict of interest. If she was the real chief instead of the acting chief she would have been experienced enough to know how to deal with it. This was just bad timing, it's not going to ruin her career."

"The last thing I want is to compromise her dreams. But I know if I tell her that, she's going to insist that I don't and that she has this amazing dream having a family with me. Look, I get it, that's one of my dreams too, but career dreams are totally different."

"Brittany's a smart woman. If you were messing with her dreams, she'd figure out a way around it. I love you, but you're being ridiculous."

"How is it being ridiculous to worry about my wife's career, which she's been working her ass off for since she was in medical school?"

"Because if you think your wife loves her career more than she loves you, you're insane."

"I'll never get in the way of her success."

"She's going to be successful no matter what. We all know she's a shoe in when Sylvester retires. You never mess up. This whole thing is so stupid and it won't mess up Brittany's chance to be chief."

"Maybe I should change hospitals, go downtown to NYU."

"Would you listen to yourself?" Mercedes crosses her arms over her chest. "You've got a good ten years until Sylvester retires and you're talking about leaving Pres? It's your home. I think you really need to talk to Brittany about this."

"She's got so much on her plate right now..."

"You're always going to be her first priority. You and those kids. Before you start coming up with weird plans, talk to her."

"Why do you always have to be right?"

"It's a gift, obviously."

"Do you want some food or something?"

"I was actually hoping to see the kids while I was here. You've been hiding them away."

"Oliver has his neurological appointment next week. I've been such a wreck about work that I forgot to be a wreck about my kid."

"At least you're home..."

"I had the day off. So does Brittany. I made sure my mom was still coming to watch Max and Li even though I told her to take time off indefinitely."

"Are you nervous about the appointment?" Mercedes asks, fiddling with one of the couch cushions.

"It gnaws it my insides like you wouldn't believe. I started thinking about it this morning and it's just...one more thing out of my control."

"He's going to be fine."

"Mercedes, I'm a pediatric surgeon. He has an identical twin brother, I can see his development in comparison to Max's. He's behind, I'm concerned. This is just one of the many things I haven't talked to Brittany about."

"You need to have some serious heart to heart with her. This isn't like you when it comes to her, it's like you with everyone else."

"You're right." Santana sighs. "This job has just been hard on our relationship and I'm trying not to dump my problems on her."

"Dump your problems on her. She's your wife, you're legally allowed to do that."

Mercedes stays until after the boys wake up and Santana is grateful for the extra set of hands when she is nursing. Liam situates himself at Santana's feet for most of the afternoon and she tries not to get frustrated while she's attempting to do things around the house. Brittany texts her that she should be home for dinner and Santana makes pasta, thinking that it's easy even with Liam being clingy and the twins alternating crying. When Brittany walks in the door, Santana feels relief that Liam runs to her. As much as she loves her sons, sometimes it's a lot being with them alone all day and she loves that Brittany is home, loves that she can pee without someone in the bathroom with her.

"Mama, 'Cedes came over." Liam announces excitedly. "I made her pictures and Max frowed up on her."

"He did, did he? Sounds like someone still has trouble keeping his milk down." Brittany kisses Liam, then picks up Max. "Mama's home and Mommy's cooking dinner. Do you want me to take over, honey?"

"I'm good." Santana shakes her head. "Just about to drain the pasta."

"Can I steal a kiss?" Brittany comes over to Santana and Santana turns her head, letting Brittany catch her lips in a lingering kiss. "I missed you all today."

"We missed you too. A lot."

"So how does everyone feel about me having next Monday and Tuesday off?"

"Really?" Santana feels like her whole body sighs with relief. "That's the best news I've heard all day."

"Really, I talked to Sue today and she told me to move my surgical calendar around. I thought a long weekend would be nice."

"Did you have something in mind to do?"

"No, I think we both deserve a break and it won't be a break if we drive up to Boston. I think we should just do things around here, you let me cook and maybe make your breakfast in bed."

"Britt."

"You've been pulling double duty for weeks. Let me take care of you a little this weekend."

"Mama! I can help." Liam insists. "I'm a good breakfast maker. I can put the waffles in the toasty all by myself!"

"Well then I'll definitely need your help." Brittany laughs. "Look at you, growing up on me while I've been so busy at work."

They eat dinner as a family and Liam chatters all through it. Brittany lets him pick one show to watch after dinner and he sits on the couch transfixed by _Paw Patro_ l while Santana and Brittany bring Max and Oliver upstairs to bathe them. When they come back down, Santana holding Oliver and Brittany holding Max, the show is just ending and Brittany tells him that it's time for bath. Rather than taking the twins upstairs right away, Santana leans back on the couch and positions them so they can both nurse, always feeling calmer at the last feeding of the day than she does at any other time.

When she's finished, Santana brings the boys into Liam's room so Brittany can kiss them goodnight and then she lays them down in her bedroom, watching as they fight the sleep. Once they're down for the night, Santana joins Brittany in Liam's bedroom again and she listens to _Iggy Peck Architect_ until Liam falls asleep. With a kiss on his puckered cheek Santana smiles down at him and then Brittany follows her back downstairs where they'll put the house back in order together.

"Britt?" Santana looks over at her, where she sits putting Liam's Legos back in the bin. "I know you have off Monday and Tuesday..."

"I still have off Thursday." She reassures her wife. "Monday and Tuesday are just a little gift from Sue."

"I'm...feeling really concerned about the appointment."

"You are? I didn't know that."

"After everything that happened between us, I was trying not to add any extra stress onto all the stress you already had. It's bad enough I did that professionally..."

"You really didn't." Brittany shakes her head. "And you're my wife, Oliver is my son, if you're worried about something that concerns him, that takes priority over my work."

"He's developing slower than Max."

"I know." She puts the last of the Legos in the bin and comes over to Santana. "I see it too."

"I accept that he might have special needs, I don't want you to think I'm like...not. I just hope that I'm a good enough mom to take care of him the right way. I already know you are."

"Santana, can I tell you something?"

"Uh huh." Santana wipes the tears that form at the corners of her eyes and looks up at Brittany.

"Way back when you first met Liam, one of the first things I noticed about the way you interacted with him was the way you dealt with his arm. You were always really gentle with it, but you also didn't treat him any differently because it didn't work properly or because of his burn scars. That's how you're going to be with Oliver. And you're going to be his advocate, you're going to make sure he gets everything he could possibly need."

"I want to be that."

"You will, because you've been it for Liam in the short time you've been his mother. I have no doubts that you're amazing."

"I'm really scared of what they're going to tell us."

"Whatever it is, we're going to get through it together. I know it's harder because we're surgeons and we're fixers but it's going to be okay."

"Britt?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think that being married to me is going to hold you back in your career? I know that's totally unrelated, I've just had a lot in my head."

"Santana, what are you talking about?"

"I'm just afraid because of everything that happened in the last few weeks that having your wife work in the same hospital will keep you from getting promoted to chief. Honestly if that's the case, I'll transfer to NYU or Methodist or LIJ because—"

"Honey." Brittany strokes Santana's arms. "You being my wife is not holding me back. You need to stop getting so stuck in your head."

"It's impossible. I'm an anxious wreck."

"I really mean it when I say I want you to relax this weekend. You're all over the place and it's not good for you."

"I think...Britt, I know you have work in the morning—"

"Do you need to take an Ambien and get a good night's sleep?"

"I think so. I just feel like I haven't had one since I was pregnant. All I do is toss and turn."

"I'll get up with the boys. We have plenty of milk in the refrigerator, you should sleep."

"Are you sure it's not too much?"

"I've been neglecting what I need to do at home. I have one more day of work before my long weekend, I can handle it on limited sleep. Sue will be back, I have no surgeries. Me being there is just a formality."

"Thank you. I just feel like I can't do tomorrow without some sleep. I don't know how my mother does it all day."

"She sleeps. She's not on duty all night long, you are. I don't expect you to deal with the twins twenty-four seven just because you're not at work."

"I feel so guilty when they're near me and I don't nurse them."

"Honey, you're human and sometimes you need a break. You nurse them every night, they'll be fine with bottles tonight."

"Thank you." Santana sighed heavily, putting the last of Liam's toys away. "I just need a this."

"Are you tired? Do you want to go up to bed now?"

"Kind of. As much as I want to spend time with you tonight, I think getting to bed early will be good for both of us."

"I'd agree with that. And this weekend we'll have lots of time."

Once the downstairs is in decent shape, Santana and Brittany go up to the bedroom. While Brittany washes up, Santana changes and watches the twins as they sleep. They're such beautiful babies and sometimes it makes Santana feel like she's going to cry just looking at them. She never thought she'd make such perfect things, she never imagined that she'd love the babies she grew inside of her as much as she does, but here she is, completely enamored, no matter how overwhelmed she is.

"They're the sweetest, aren't they?" Brittany whispers.

"They really are just...something else. They're growing so fast I'm scared I can't even keep track of it."

"I love that you had them. I know that after they were born everything got difficult, and I don't know if I ever told you that you carrying our babies was one of the best things that I've ever seen."

"I wanted to do it. I think I just needed to feel like I was doing something big. My whole life has been work and then you gave me Liam and I wanted to give you something in return."

"I love you so much, Santana."

"I love you so much too."


	79. Chapter 79

All day Friday, Santana looks forward to Brittany coming home. The idea that the five of them will have a four day weekend together almost makes her forget about what a disaster everything else is. But she has promised herself that she's going to put that aside for a few days, that she's really going to let herself relax while they do family things, that she'll let Brittany cook her breakfast in bed if she really wants to do that and she won't turn her stomach into knots thinking about what's going on at the hospital. For just a few days, she'll be calm and maybe it'll shift something in her brain so she can be relaxed all of the time.

"Mommy Noodle, what are you doing?" Liam comes into the kitchen where Santana is making a late lunch for herself. The twins are sleeping and Liam was supposed to be too, but obviously he has other plans.

"I'm making some coffee, Sir. And what are you doing out of bed?"

"I just missed you too much. Will you lay with me?"

"Okay." She concedes, not really able to say no to his earnest face. "Let's go."

She follows Liam up the stairs and carefully moves his stuffed animals from where he'd tucked them all in when he'd tried to procrastinate on his nap. He gets under the covers and she lays on top of them beside her, but he looks at her with a cross face.

"You needa get under the blankets, Mommy Noodle. That's the right way to lay."

"You never tell me that at night."

"Well I changeded the rules. Now you have to come under with me."

With a laugh, Santana complies, getting under the blanket. Liam immediately curls into her and she loves the smell of him so close. Being home with the three boys has been overwhelming but it's the little moments like this that almost make her glad she has this time off of work. Once he's snuggled into her, Liam falls asleep almost immediately and not wanting to jostle him, Santana doesn't move. She doesn't have her phone or one of the journals she's been catching up on so she decides to close her eyes. It isn't long before she falls asleep curled up with Liam and she feels completely content.

"Mama, you're home!" Liam shouts, waking Santana from her slumber who knows how much later. "And it's not even dark outside!"

"I'm home, Bud." Brittany grins, both at Liam and Santana who rubs a kink out of her shoulder. "For four whole days."

"What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?"

"I think after bedtime tonight, Mommy and I will talk about it. But I think it'll be a lot of fun stuff."

"I love fun stuff!" He shouts, tumbling off the bed. Before either Santana or Brittany can react, he's on his feet and jumping up and down. From the other room, there's a cry and Santana knows it's Oliver.

"I'll get him, honey." Brittany tells Santana and Liam chases her out the door.

When Brittany comes back in the room, she has Oliver in her arms and she comes over to the bed, kissing Santana's lips and murmuring a hi against them and getting up beside her. Oliver is content to lay in Brittany's arms for awhile and Liam comes back into the room, dragging a stack of trains up onto the bed. Santana plays with him while Brittany lays Oliver between her legs, tickling his belly and making him laugh.

"Max was still knocked out." Brittany tells Santana.

"He nursed for kind of awhile before he went down. Oliver went to sleep about a half hour before he did."

"They were good today?"

"I was extra good!" Liam announces. "I helped Mommy Noodle do the dishwasher and I cleaned up my toys and I played with Maxie and Ollie!"

"It's true." Santana smiles. "He did."

"I'm glad to hear that, Li. Much better behavior than yesterday."

"Mama, you can forget now that I was fresh."

"You're right." Brittany laughs. "I can."

Eventually, Oliver starts to get fussy and Santana takes him to nurse. Brittany takes over playing with Liam and when Max gets up, Liam rolls the trains over Santana's legs while Brittany goes to get him. It's only late afternoon, but Santana enjoys being in Liam's bed with everyone she loves and she feels no motivation for either she or Brittany to get up and start making dinner.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" She asks, hoping that Brittany is in the mood.

"That sounds good, what do you feel like?"

"If you feel like us navigating Celeste with three kids, I could really go for Italian."

"What do you think, Li, do you want spaghetti and meatballs?"

"What about hot dogs?"

"I think you've had enough hot dogs this week." Santana ruffles his hair. "It's time for something different."

"Can I have ice cream?"

"As long as your behavior is as good at dinner as it's been all day, I think I can agree to that. What do you think, Mama?"

"I think that sounds fair. How about we pick you out something to wear while Mommy finishes feeding Max?"

Brittany gets Liam dressed to go out while Santana keeps Oliver between her legs and keeps nursing Max. Then she goes into their bedroom to change out of her work clothes into jeans and Santana smiles when she comes back looking significantly more relaxed than she has in recent days. The long weekend will be good for both of them, Santana thinks, and when Max seems like he's just latched in for comfort more than for food, she hands both of the boys to Brittany and goes to change out of her yoga pants and into something more suitable for dinner.

Liam is as good as he promised, eating most of his spaghetti and meatballs and the twins don't cry at all during dinner. Santana is glad that she and Brittany can both relax and have a glass of wine and by the time they get home, all three boys are beyond ready for bath and bed. They do their usual nightly routine with them and then they change into pajamas themselves so they can go downstairs and just relax. When they get to the couch, Santana almost immediately lays her head in Brittany's lap and she loves the feeling of her long fingers running through her hair.

"How was Sue today? Did she seem mad?"

"Santana, I promise, no one as mad it you. She did ream one of the lawyers for calling Unique a he today on the phone, so that was fun to watch."

"Do you think they're even competent? I mean, are you allowed to say that now that you're not acting chief?"

"I would have said it to you anyway when I was. I think they're good at settling cases and in your case, that's what matters."

"I just want to go back to work. It's nice to have some time with the boys, but I miss the hospital."

"I know." Brittany sighs. "The settlement has been drafted, so they're getting there. And Shelby wants you back to work with the new hire."

"I can't believe they're actually hiring someone. It's been since before you were there that they have."

"I know, the budget cuts on the whole hospital haven't been good, Sue told me that when she hired me. But I'm glad they're getting someone for your department, so is Shelby."

"Are you glad to be done with the chief thing, or do you wish you had longer?"

"Right now, with the boys so little, I'm glad to be done. When they're older, it'll be a better time for me. If I'm the one who actually becomes the chief."

"I have no doubt that you will. You're meant for greatness, Brittany Pierce."

"I'm so lucky to have someone who believes in me so much." She smiles, leaning down to kiss Santana's lips.

"You're worthy of it. I feel like we've had kind of a tough time since the twins were born where I've been caught up in my own thing, but I always want to be your supportive wife."

"I'll always be supportive of you too, Santana. I know it's been really hard for you with the postpartum and me working so much. I just want to get us back into our routine."

"I'm starting to feel like myself again at least. Even though I still feel like we don't have Max and Oliver on a great routine. They're still nursing so much more than they should at night, but I'm not ready to let them cry." Santana purses her lips and Brittany nods.

"They were small when they were born, the nutrition is good for them. But I mean it every time I tell you that if you need to sleep, I'll wake up with them."

"I know. It's just like, I don't know, when I'm at work they get bottle fed all day, I feel like I should at least nurse them at night. There's something about it, I guess. Do you feel left out by it?"

"I don't. I love watching you nurse, I guess I feel like there's something really intimate about me getting to be a part of that. You made our kids with your body, now you're still taking care of them with it."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Always." Brittany tilts her head down.

"I'm glad I got to have kids with you. I really never thought about if before I met you. I guess I was just scared to pass down all of my crap."

"If they suffer from your anxiety, we're here to help them. It won't go untreated for so long. Did you know that my sister lived with depression? I wonder sometimes if Liam will too."

"I never would have imagined that from the stories you've told me about her."

"She suffered quietly." Brittany tells her. "She looked like the happiest person in the world, and by the time she settled into her life and got on medication, I think she was. But when we were teenagers, it was pretty bad. My parents didn't know what to do."

"I'd like to think that we will."

"Me too. I think if Liv would have gotten help earlier she would have gotten to enjoy so much more of her life. I don't know, it's heartbreaking that she died so soon after she started living."

"I'm sorry, Britt."

"I guess there will never be a day where I don't miss her. I would give anything for her to know you and the twins. And Liam too. She'd get such a kick out of how he is now."

"He's something else, isn't he? Today he really was so good. Max was so fussy and he kept saying 'Mommy Noodle, I want to help you make Maxie not sad,' and then he'd entertain him."

"He's a really good big brother. I was nervous before they were born, since Li was so used to having all of the attention."

"I was never nervous." Santana shakes her head. "I pictured him just like this. They already are totally in love with him."

"What do you want to do this weekend? I want to do whatever you want. If you want to stay in bed all day, that's totally fine."

"I don't, I want to enjoy the time with you home. It's supposed to be nice, so maybe we walk to the Museum of Natural History tomorrow?"

"I like that idea." Brittany starts massaging Santana's temples. "Liam will love it, I'm sure."

"I can't believe we've only taken him once. That's probably the best memory of my childhood, when my mom would take me into the city and we'd go there and have lunch. Sometimes she'd sneak me out of school and make my promise not to tell my father."

"I'm glad you have some nice memories from when you were a kid."

"My mom really did try. I feel bad for her that she missed out on so much of her own life by being with him. She was at his beck and call all of the time."

"I'm sorry you both went through that. And I'm glad that you're so close with her now."

"It took me a long time to see her as a victim too." Santana sighs. "She won't admit it, I don't think ever, but I'm sure he hit her."

"That makes me physically sick. You don't know how much I admire you both for recovering from how he treated you."

"I'm obviously not fully recovered, look at my collection of medication just to get through the severe anxiety that I swear was caused by him."

"Still, you've been able to become an amazing surgeon, an amazing mother, and the best wife I could ever imagine."

"Being with you has helped me more than you know. I trust again because you've given me reason to."

"I want you to know." Brittany stops massaging and looks deep into Santana's eyes. "I will never hurt you."

"I know, I know that so much."

After their intense conversation, Santana just wants to watch something stupid on TV, so they put on Nick at Nite and watch whatever sitcoms come on for awhile. It's late by the time they go to bed and Santana feels like she has five minutes to sleep before the sound of a crying baby wakes her up. She's glad she's got the double nursing thing down and she gets both Max and Oliver settled fairly quickly. Once they're done eating, Brittany, having woken up at the sound of the crying, changes their diapers and she soothes them back to sleep.  
In the morning, everyone seems to be ready to sleep in and even though Santana's body wakes her up, she still stays curled up under the covers with her eyes closed. She's in Brittany's arms still from the last time she fell back to sleep and she snuggles closer to her, breathing in her unique smell and savoring the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her.

"You're awake." Brittany murmurs. "I thought you were going to sleep in today."

"Apparently my body had other plans. Of course it's a morning when none of the boys are up."

"Roll over so I can kiss you."

"Hmm. Are you trying to seduce me?" Santana laughs, rolling so she's facing Brittany.

"If only we had the time. We both know Liam will be in here any minute." Brittany tucks a piece of hair behind Santana's ear and kisses her lips. "Alone time is pretty much non-existent for us these days."

"I promise we'll get Max and Oliver out of here soon, so we have our own space."

"Let's just do it when we feel ready, there's no need to rush it."

"No, I know. I just feel bad that our sex life is kind of…lacking. If it didn't take me so damn long to have an orgasm…"

"Don't blame yourself because of the medication. Besides, when we do steal a little while alone in the guest room, it feels really special."

"Maybe tonight we can. We could do early bedtime, open a bottle of wine, take a bath and just be with each other."

"I'd like that a lot." Brittany kisses Santana's lips. "As long as you're up for it."

"I'm definitely up for it."

Max crying cuts their conversation short and Santana takes him into her arms, pulling up her t-shirt to do his first feeding of the day. He winds his hand up in her hair and she smiles down at him, just in awe every minute. When Oliver wakes up, Brittany takes Max and Santana does the same with him. She lets her fingers trace the scar on his head, almost covered now by his hair, she feels his weight, so slight in comparison to Max and she thinks about how in just a few days, a doctor will have a lot to say about him to them. The feeling is a little overwhelming and Santana knows by the way Brittany puts her hand on her shoulder that she knows what she's thinking.

"Mama! Mommy Noodle! What are we gonna do today?" Liam bursts into the room, hair wild and lines still on his cheek from his pillow.

"How do you feel about going to see the dinosaurs?" Brittany asks him.

"At the museum? Okey! But you gotta see the big whale that Gramma Maribel showeded me! It's at the same place as the dino-saurs."

"That sounds really good, bud."

"Li, did you know that Grandma Maribel used to take me to the museum when I was little?"

"Mommy Noodle, that's silly, you're big."

"But I wasn't always big." Santana laughs. "And the whale was my favorite part."

"You know where it is?"

"I know where it is."

Brittany insists on making breakfast so Santana lays out clothes for Liam and then gets Max and Oliver dressed and brushes her teeth so it will be easier to take a shower and get ready after breakfast. She goes downstairs with all three boys and Brittany already has a stack of pancakes waiting. Santana puts Max and Oliver in their bouncy seats and starts cutting up Liam's pancakes before she makes plates for her and Brittany. Liam is so excited all through breakfast that he can hardly control himself and Santana and Brittany trade amused glances.

After breakfast they take turns in the shower and Santana is shocked that by ten o'clock they're ready to leave the house. Brittany goes to get the car and Santana waits on the curb, holding Liam's hand while she has the two car seats tucked in the crooks of her arms. It's always a workout getting all three boys out of the house and she's glad she's in good enough shape to handle it. When Brittany pulls up with the car, she immediately jumps out to help Santana and once they're all securely in the car, they're off.

"Mama, can we see the ephalants too?" Liam asks once they're inside the museum.

"We can see whatever you want today, bud. We have the whole day."

"And nobody has to go to work?"

"Nope, nobody has to go to work." Brittany grins. "Nobody has to go to work until Wednesday."

"Is that a lot of days?"

"It's four whole days. How's that sound?"

"Great!"

"Now how about that whale, Sir?" Santana offers and Liam bounces up and down, clapping his hands.

They end up being in the museum until late afternoon, with a stop in the cafeteria for lunch and several breaks to feed Max and Oliver, and Santana is surprised that Liam lasted that long. But by the time he's ready to leave, it's clear he's exhausted and Brittany is eager to get him home before he melts down. They'll pull something together for dinner, she tells Santana, both of them knowing that going out again is bound to be a disaster, and Brittany gets them home with no tears.

The evening doesn't go as well. Liam cries over his macaroni and cheese at dinner, he cries in the bathtub, he cries that he doesn't want to go to bed and Santana can tell that Brittany is getting really frustrated. She doesn't show it, she never does, but she shoulders are tight and after Santana nurses the babies and puts them down to bed, she finds Brittany in the living room and she slowly kneads her thumbs into her shoulder blades. Brittany sighs into her touch and Santana kisses her neck, letting her lips linger there.

"The post-great day meltdown." Brittany sighs.

"We never learn, do we?"

"Apparently not. At least he's sleeping, I was afraid he'd cry for another hour."

"He was completely tired out, Max and Oliver too. It was pretty cute, they both fell asleep nursing all tangled up in one another."

"I'm bummed I missed it. But they couldn't have waited for me to be done with Liam."

"I'm sorry you got the brunt of it." Santana purses her lips.

"You had twins to feed, don't worry about it. Besides, now that everyone is sleeping, I have you all to myself."

"That's true. You do."

"How tired are you?" Brittany asks.

"Not too tired that I don't want to pour two glasses of wine and go up to the guest room."

"Yeah?"

"Totally, yeah."

They go into the kitchen together to get the wine and then they go up into the guest room. Santana knows that she's still being weird by needing to go in there but she just feels more comfortable with it. She's not even close to ready to move the twins into their own room, if she's being honest with herself, and she knows that Brittany knows that, despite what she says out loud. So they've made the guest room a place where they can go for privacy, and though Santana does love falling asleep naked and tangled with Brittany, she settled for laying naked for awhile and then going back into their bedroom so they're close by if the boys need them.

"Wanna make out?" Santana laughs, sipping from her wine glass.

"You're ridiculous." Brittany shakes her head, smile on her face. "Come here."

Santana steps into Brittany's embrace and Brittany kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her lips before she lowers her back on the bed and climbs on top of her. In experimenting with different things since Santana's medication has made sex a little more complicated, they've learned that long makeout sessions and often Santana going down on Brittany makes her body react. Santana still blushes sometimes, thinking how embarrassing it is that it takes so much to rev her up, but Brittany is nothing if not supportive, always promising her that she appreciates having more time to love her.

Savoring every moment of kissing Brittany, Santana threads her fingers through her hair, she pulls her closer, she feels the pound of her heart against her own. There's something in the safety she feels with Brittany that makes their physical intimacy even better and she wishes that she could ever find the words to explain that to her. Instead, she just kisses her harder and then Brittany's hands begin to wander over her body. She touches her milk swollen breasts, she traces the stretch marks on her stomach, she makes her feel beautiful again without even saying a word.

"You okay?" Brittany asks, because she always does lately, not wanting to make Santana feel uncomfortable.

"Really okay."

"I'm going to take your shirt off, okay? I want to see you."

"Mmhm."

Lips replace fingers once Santana is topless and she tugs at Brittany's shirt, wanting her bared as well. Brittany pulls it off in one quick motion and then unlatches her bra. Santana admires her body, she never can help but, and then she pulls Brittany back down on top of her. They kiss for a long while more and then Santana rolls Brittany onto her back, wanting to pleasure her. Brittany just smiles, eyes hooded, as Santana unbuttons her jeans and slides down between her legs.

The actual act of sex is never what is most intimate between them, but when they're finished and Santana lays with her head on Brittany's chest, she feels sated and calm. Brittany's fingers still trace over her stomach and Santana shivers a little both from the touch and from the coolness of chilling sweat. She knows that should go into their bedroom, Santana feels herself almost falling asleep, but she just wants one more moment like this, one more second of lying naked beside her wife. Maybe that's what she's looking forward to most about when she's finally ready to move the twins, being able to fall asleep like this again, and she kisses Brittany's ear, just savoring.

Pulling clothing back on, they eventually make their way back into their own bedroom. Max and Oliver are still sound asleep and Santana and Brittany are quiet as they change into pajamas and take turns in the bathroom washing up. They finally settle into bed and Santana finds her place in Brittany's arms. It's been especially hard for her, being out of work, but when she gets to lay like this at night, everything else seems to fade away.

"You're quiet tonight." Brittany murmurs into Santana's hair.

"Just thinking a lot, I guess."

"About work?"

"Not really, mostly about us."

"Can I ask what about?"

"Just that our relationship makes me calm." Santana squeezes Brittany's hand. "Even in chaos, I get in your arms and I settle."

"Are you doing okay?"

"I'm still really scared about everything at the hospital. I know you've been there and I know you said it was going to be okay, but I can't help but feel anxious about it. They haven't even called, you know? I didn't do anything wrong."

"They're going to settle the case. That man doesn't know what doctors do, he doesn't know that we make a billion decisions every day that can be life or death. He just wants money and the hospital is going to give it to him. You saved a little boy's life, Santana. You made the right choice."

"But what if Unique hadn't been there to save Cecile Frank's life?"

"She was though. You couldn't have known her appendix was going to burst, it was a routine surgery and you knew that Thomas Harper's life depended on you being in that room."

"I just worry that I have so much on my plate that maybe I'm not making decisions the way I used to."

"Honey." Brittany kisses the top of her head. "We've been over this. You're no less of an amazing surgeon now that you have kids."

"It was just, like, the day I came back from Max being sick. I was worried about him."

"If this was two years ago, what would you have done?"

"I would have moved the routine surgery and taken the emergency." Santana concedes.

"Then you can't blame yourself for this. No one died. Two lives were saved instead of just one. I know Thomas Harper's family is grateful for the choice you made."

"I just want to go back to work."

"Give it another week. Now that Sue is back, it's going to move more quickly."  
"Those people in legal are idiots you know."

"I do know. But they're actually not bad at their jobs." Brittany sighs. "Are you overwhelmed at home?"

"It actually has been less overwhelming than I expected. I'm not sure how my mom does it at her age though, there's always something going on. It's different when it's both of us with two sets of hands."

"Moms who are with their kids all day every day get all the credit, huh? When Liam was little, I couldn't have done it without day care. That first month when I took leave of absence to stay home with him every day while he healed was rough."

"It's scary when something isn't right. I think being home gives me too much time to think about Oliver." Santana admits.

"Whatever it is, we're going to get through it. If it means I take time off of work, I will."

"I know. You're a really good mom."

"So are you, Santana. I don't want you to ever forget that."


	80. Chapter 80

The morning of Oliver's doctor's appointment, Santana is a nervous wreck. She hadn't slept much the night before, getting up every hour or so to google something that she might want to ask Dr. Morgan, and the whole thing has her so close to the edge. This is her sin. The little boy she gave birth to way too early. If something is wrong with him, she feels like it's all on her and she just doesn't know how to cope with that. For her part, Brittany is so good. She gets up and lets Santana stay in bed—even though she's not sleeping—and gets breakfast for Liam before the twins are even up.

It's just a lot for Santana to cope with and she has no idea how she's even going to manage the cab ride to the doctor's office, let alone the consultation. She knows for a fact that Oliver isn't developing as quickly as Max, she knows that everything is more obvious because he's an identical twin and all she fears in the world is that Dr. Morgan is going to tell her that her son is not okay. Special needs she can handle, special needs is totally fine, but what if there's something terribly wrong with her sweet little Oliver and he's not going to be okay?

"Baby?" Brittany comes into the room where Santana lays with the covers over her head. "I know the boys are still sleeping, but I think we should get them up or we're going to be late."

"Okay." Santana sucks in a deep breath. "I'll wake them up. My boobs are killing me, it's time for them to eat."

Brittany is good. She's so good and Santana wishes she could ever express to her just how much she means. She leaves Santana alone because she just knows that Santana needs her time to cope with her anxiety and leaning over the bassinet, Santana gently wakes up Max and Oliver. Oliver cries a lot when he wakes up, and it always hurts Santana's heart to hear it, but once she has the two of them latched on and she leans against the headboard, she feels like it's going to be okay. Oliver is strong, Oliver is amazing, and she shouldn't have to worry about him when he's so clearly going to catch up to his brother.

Santana spends a long time kissing Liam and Max goodbye when her mother gets there. She just never wants to spend more attention on one of the boys so she's very careful to divide her love among them. When Oliver first came home, Santana had worried that Max wasn't getting enough attention, but she's corrected that, she's tried so hard to make sure that just because maybe Ollie needs a little more, she's not neglecting the other boys that she loves so much. Brittany is the love of her life, but Liam, Max and Oliver are something else, they're the love she never believed she could have, they're so much of her heart, and she never wants to make any one of them feel like she doesn't love them as much as the other.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asks Santana, once they're in the backseat of the cab with Oliver strapped to Santana's chest.

"I'm so scared, Britt. I don't even know how to control myself."

"I'm scared too. But Dr. Morgan is the best neurologist in the city, which pretty much means the best in the world. She came so highly recommended by everyone at the hospital that I can't be worried she won't do what's right by us."

"I just never want anything to happen to our son. He had surgery so young…"

"I know, but he's thriving." Brittany squeezes Santana's hand. "If we didn't have Max to compare him to, we probably wouldn't be worried."

"But we do."

"I know. And today he's going to get an MRI and we're going to see how much his brain is developing. You're going to feel so much better after we do that."

"I really hope you're right."

They get to the office and Santana paces the floor of the waiting room. She hates that Dr. Morgan is running late, she hates that even though their appointment is right when the office opens, she's still not there. Brittany trues to calm her down but it just doesn't work. She's an absolute wreck and she won't be settled until someone tells her that her son is okay. In moments like this, she hates being a surgeon, she hates that she knows about worst case scenarios and she hates that she's been the one to tell them to parents. She's afraid of some kind of karmic retribution that will take it out on Oliver and she kind of wants to throw up.

"Oliver." The receptionist calls out and Santana wants to jump out of her skin. "Dr. Morgan is ready."

Brittany carries Oliver into the exam room and Dr. Morgan is waiting there. She's supposed to be the best neurologist in the city, but Santana sizes her up. She can tell that there's a scowl on her own face that Brittany tries to soften with a squeeze of her hand but she just wants the doctor to know that she better do exactly what is right by her son. She's a doctor, she's not a parent that is clueless and can be taken advantage of. She doesn't know if she accomplishes that all with a glare, but she sure hopes she can.

"Dr. Lopez, Dr. Pierce. It's so nice to meet you." Dr. Morgan extends her hand. "And Mr. Oliver, it's so nice to meet you too."

"We're so glad you could see him." Brittany speaks. "We know you have quite a busy schedule."

"I know you were recommended by Holly Holiday, I've seen a few of her neonatology patients."

"She did Oliver's surgery." Brittany tells her, while Santana remains silent. "And she says you're the best."

"I'm good at my job, but I don't need the flattery. Why don't I check Oliver out before we do an MRI?"

Dr. Morgan shines a light in Oliver's eyes and he cries, making Santana flinch. She knows she's made patients of her own cry with exams, but it feels different when it's her own son. Brittany answers most of the questions about Oliver's development, leaving out the comparisons to Max, while Santana stands over the baby and tries to make him feel better. When it comes time for the MRI, Santana holds back her tears when Dr. Morgan straps Oliver down. He keeps wailing and even with Santana and Brittany in the room, they can't do anything to calm him. Brittany holds Santana's hand and it's the one thing anchoring her during the procedure which feels like it lasts hours. She knows this is just the first of many that he'll need throughout his life and all that she can hope is that it will get easier as time goes on.

"Okay." Dr. Morgan says when they are back in the exam room and Santana holds Oliver to her breast, comfort nursing him. "From the MRI, it looks like the brain bleed has healed really well."

"I'm so glad to hear that." Brittany breathes a sigh of relief and Santana looks up from the baby.

"His development is slow and that's a concern for me. He's too young for me to diagnose him, but I want to keep an eye on him, meaning you come see me every six months. Watch him carefully, I want to know if his limbs are stiff or if you notice any flopiness. I expect that his development will continue to be slower than his brother's, but I suggest you don't compare the two."

Santana knows that Dr. Morgan is looking for signs of cerebral palsy in her son but can't diagnose him at such a young age and she feels sick to her stomach. She doesn't want her sweet baby boy to have a hard life and she'll be damned if she doesn't do everything in her power to make it easier. When they leave, she just feels so exhausted and as Oliver sleeps in her arms, she knows she wants to take him up to bed when they get home. She knows that she should talk to Brittany, but she also knows that her mind is racing and she just needs a little time to process.

Luckily for her, Liam and Max are napping when they get back in the house so she's able to excuse herself from her mom and Brittany and go up to the bedroom. She lays Oliver on the bed beside her because she doesn't want him far away and she actually manages to fall asleep like that, even if she has nightmares once she does. She knows that she tosses and turns but when she wakes up to the sound of Oliver's cries, she lifts him into her arms and cries herself. He's okay, he's going to be okay, but the stress of the morning has really gotten to her and she just needs to release it.

"Hi." Brittany opens the door. "I just wanted to come up and check on you."

"I'm sorry I was useless at the appointment." Santana sniffles. "It's just hard for me to give up control to another doctor."

"I understand that." Brittany comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over to lift Oliver's hair and look at his scar. "He has a long road ahead of him."

"You know, my mom used to say that God doesn't give you more than you can handle. I don't know if I believe in God, but if there is one, I really think he's given us a little too much."

"You're the strongest person I know, Santana. Even if you have really bad anxiety, I know you can handle a lot."

"You had to watch Liam have skin grafts, we sat through his second surgery, you were there for my third. Now this perfect little boy, we have to watch him for what I know are symptoms of cerebral palsy. I'm so scared about it."

"If he has cerebral palsy, we're going to get him the best care there is. I'm not afraid of it."

"You're not?"

"He's our son, are you going to love him any differently?"

"Of course not."

"Then that's what matters. Look at him, Santana, he's perfect, you made these two beautiful things."

"They really are something else, aren't they?" Santana sniffles and looks down at Oliver.

"They completed our family. I know we didn't plan for twins but I can't imagine not having them."

"Neither can I. No matter how tired I am or stressed about all the stupid stuff at work, I look at our boys and just feel so grateful."

"Me too." Brittany wraps her arms sound Santana and holds her close. "Do you want me to take him downstairs so you can keep resting?"

"No, I'm reading to see Liam and Max. I'm sure Max is hungry."

"I gave him a bottle while you were sleeping, he's okay. It's nice out today though, maybe we can take a walk?"

"I'd like that a lot. I know Li has been itching to go to the park."

"He'd be thrilled if you told him that." Brittany laughs. "Let's go."

Santana hands Oliver off to Brittany, knowing she really hasn't had the time to cuddle him that she has, and they go downstairs. Liam is coloring intently at the table and Max is sitting in his little seat, squeezing the stuffed giraffe that is attached to it. Santana kisses her Liam on the head and then she bends down to get Max, watching how he smiles at her. She loves that the twins smile now, she loves that she gets to feel their joy in her presence and she squeezes him to her chest, just wanting to feel him in her arms.

"Mommy Noodle, why was you sleepin' in the day time? Do you have to go to work?"

"I don't, Sir. I was just having a little rest. But now that I'm awake, I was thinking we could go to the park."

"Yay! I love the park! I can show Ollie and Maxie all the stuff! Can they go on the slide with me?"

"They're still too little for that, bud." Brittany ruffles his hair. "But maybe by the time summer comes, they'll be able to go on the swings with you."

"Summer is in a long, long time." He pouts. "It's still cold."

"It's getting warmer and summer will be here before you know it." Brittany promises him. "But for now, Max and Oliver will really like watching you play."

"Mommy Noodle, will you go on the slide with me? I like it better than going alone."

"If that makes you happy, then I'll absolutely go on the slide with you."

Together, Santana and Brittany get the boys ready for the park and each of them take a carrier with one of the twins. Santana has Max strapped to her chest and before they even make it to the park, he falls asleep. She wonders when they're going to stop sleeping so much, even though she knows a lot about kids, it's different when they're her own, and when she looks over at Oliver, he's sleeping too. Liam is wide awake though and he skips between them, so excited to finally be outside after what feels like the longest winter.

They get to the park and true to her word, Santana goes down the slide with Liam. Brittany, in one of her amazing moments of forethought, had thrown the double carrier in the diaper bag and Santana helps her situate the two sleeping babies in it before she goes off with Liam. It's been so long that she's just been able to play with him that it feels so good for both of them and she sees Brittany stand up to take pictures. Being out in the cool late winter air feels so freeing and after such a stressful day, Santana feels like she could cry in relief. Then, while she's chasing Liam around, her phone rings in her pocket and she peeks at it to see that it's Shelby.

"Okay, Liam, time out. It's Dr. Shelby on the phone and I need to answer it."

"Hurry up, Mommy Noodle, hurry up!"

"Li, give Mommy a minute. Why don't I push you in the swing?"

"Okey!"

"Hello?" Santana answers, feeling really nervous to talk to her.

" _Hi Santana, how are you?"_

"Just a little out of breath, sorry, I was running around with Liam."

" _Is this not a good time? Do you want to call me back?"_

"No, it's fine, I'm here. What going on?"

" _The lawyers met today, it looks like they've been able to reach a settlement. In the settlement, the Franks have agreed not to sue you personally and they get their money. I met with Sue this afternoon, and you're cleared to come back to work. I know you're supposed to be on nights this week, but—"_

"Nights are fine. I had taken off today for Oliver's appointment, but I can come back tomorrow?"

" _You can come back tomorrow. I'm scheduling you to cover the emergency room like I'd originally planned."_

"Okay, I'll be there. Thank you, Shelby."

" _Thank you for being patient while this whole thing was worked out. I'll see you tomorrow before I leave."_

Santana hangs up the phone and she goes over to the swings where Brittany is somehow managing to push Liam, even with two babies attached to her chest. To make things easier, Santana steps in and takes over the pushing. Brittany looks at her, waiting for her to talk, and Santana takes a deep breath.

"They settled, they're not going to sue me. I'm going back to work tomorrow night, so I guess I'll adjust for just one night before the weekend and then I go back to days next week."

"You lucked out on only getting one night, huh?" Brittany laughs a little.

"I lucked out in a lot of ways. My job is safe. God, Britt, I feel so much better."

"I feel so much better for you."

Once Liam is tired out from the park, Santana carries him home when he complains about walking. Brittany makes a pork roast for dinner and as tired as Santana is, she knows that she has to stay up so she can sleep during the day and be prepared for the night shift. She calls her mom, who is perfectly fine with coming back in such short notice, and then after they eat dinner, Santana and Brittany do baths and bedtime. Santana will still come upstairs to do the night feedings so when she does the last feeding before bed, she kisses the babies goodnight and smiles down at them. Liam falls asleep even before books and Santana can see that Brittany is fading fast too.

"I'll stay up with you for awhile." Brittany offers, though her eyes look exhausted.

"Don't, you'll be tired in the morning. I think maybe I'll go to the 24 hour Target and buy things we don't need to keep myself from falling asleep on the couch."

"I'm glad you got a little nap in today, hopefully that helps."

"I hope so, the switch is always the worst and to do it for just one night kind of sucks. Saturday is going to be hell."

"We'll have a low key day, you can sleep for awhile, I'll take the boys somewhere in the morning."

"You're the best wife, I hope you know that."

"I've just been there, I know it's brutal." Brittany shrugs then yawns.

"Go to bed, babe, I know you're tired." Santana kisses her lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Once Brittany is upstairs in bed, Santana goes outside to get a cab and goes downtown to Target. Married life is such a different experience than when she was single and worked nights and she laughs at herself as she puts dish soap and paper towels in the cart. She has a few hours before she has to feed the boys so she wanders aimlessly around the store, ending up in the clothing section. She stocks up on bigger underwear for Liam and then she finds herself looking at new clothes for him. The twins have so much, people sent so many gifts when they were born, but Liam is growing so fast that she can't help but pick out new things for him to wear. She and Brittany love Cat and Jack, so she ends up putting a bunch of t-shirts in the cart before she's off to stock up on diapers.

It's one o'clock in the morning when she heads home and she leaves everything by the doorway so she can go upstairs and be there when Max and Oliver wake up. She sits on the edge of the bed, murmuring to Brittany to stay sleeping, while she feeds them and hums softly to them and then she goes back downstairs to start organizing everything she bought. She feels absolutely exhausted but if she can just stay awake until five, she'll be in decent shape for getting some sleep during the day. The time finally comes and she feeds the boys one more time before she crawls into bed next to Brittany, tucking herself into her body. She'll only get to sleep like that for an hour or so before Brittany gets up, but it's totally worth it even for the short time.

She sleeps through the morning, not even hearing her mom or the boys downstairs, and when she finally wakes up, it's two o'clock and her breasts are killing her from not nursing or pumping for so long. Santana brushes her teeth and washes her face and she throws on clean scrubs before she goes downstairs to see what's going on. Liam is watching _Paw Patrol_ and Oliver is in her mother's arms while Max sleeps in the bouncy seat.

"Mommy Noodle, you sleepeded for so long! I already taked my nap."

"I was pretty tired." Santana laughs. "But I was thinking Ollie might be hungry."

"He is." Maribel hands him over to Santana. "I knew you'd be up soon, so I didn't want to feed him."

"Thank you for that, Ma. Hello, my sweet boy."

Santana settles in on the couch to nurse and she watches as Liam shouts along with his show. It's kind of weird for her, knowing that she won't be around for bedtime tonight, but she knows she has to get over it. Shelby probably worked her shifts this week and it's different for her as a single mom with an elementary age daughter than it is for she and Brittany who have each other.

"You must be excited to go back to work, _mija_."

"I really am, I'm just glad you're have this whole thing behind me, and Shelby has started looking for a new surgeon, so it'll lighten the stress that's been hanging over the department."

"I'm glad to hear that. And you're doing okay?"

"I'm getting by, honestly." Santana sighs. "I have my moments, but it's just part of who I am."

"I don't tell you enough, but I'm so very proud of you. You're an amazing doctor and mother."

"Ma."

"Take the compliment."

For the rest of the afternoon, Santana spends time with the boys. Liam yells when she has to go to work, but she promises him that they'll have the whole weekend together and then she's out the door. She figures she'll get there early enough that she'll have enough time to pop into Brittany's office before she has to be in the ER and she's glad she'll be able to see her. She goes upstairs and Brittany is just packing up, undoubtedly anxious to see Liam and the twins and Santana leans on her doorframe.

"Hey you." Brittany grins. "I'm glad I got to see you."

"Me too, I wasn't sure if you'd be gone."

"I took a few extra minutes on my rounds tonight, one of my skin grafts isn't taking is quickly as I'd like."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Just watch it. It might have to be redone, but I won't know for a few days. How are you? Are you rested?"

"I woke up around two, so I'm pretty rested. I know covering the pit means no time to sneak in a nap in an on call room, so I'll survive."

"I know you won't sleep enough when you get home, so I'll do the night shift tomorrow night with the boys so you can take a pill."

"Thank you." Santana comes toward Brittany's desk and kisses her lips. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"I'm sure we'll be up."

Santana goes down to the emergency room and gets started seeing possible surgical patients. Before long, she's doing an appendectomy on a ten year old girl and after not being in surgery for the last week and a half, it feels good to snap her gloves back on. She thinks of all the overnights she used to work where she didn't get to do a single surgery, so having one to start off the night feels good. After the Frank incident, she feels like an emergency appendectomy is exactly what she needs to get back in the game and it goes off without a hitch.

Once that's done, the rest of the night is quiet and she finds herself counting the hours until she can go home. When she's busy, she never feels that way, but since it's dead, she just thinks of how nice it would feel to be sleeping beside her wife. When the night is finally over, she's tired, more tired than she ever was when working an overnight shift before three kids, and she grabs her stuff and goes out on the curb to get a cab. She's glad she doesn't have the car, glad she doesn't have to drive home in her exhausted state and she gives the driver the address and is glad to be home in fifteen minutes.

The lights are still out when she goes into the house and she's surprised that at 6:30 none of the boys have woken up. She creeps up the stairs, trying to keep it that way, and throws on a clean pair of scrubs and takes a sleeping pill before she crawls in bed next to Brittany. Almost subconsciously, Santana thinks, Brittany pulls her close, and even though she knows very soon Brittany will be out of bed, she savors the time she has in her arms.

"Why won't Mommy Noodle wake up?" Santana hears Liam screaming in the hall, hours later. "I want to see her now!"

"Li, she didn't come home until just before we woke up, we have to let her sleep for a little while longer."

"But it's daytime and I already eated my lunch!" She listens as her gets increasingly upset, clearly at the point where he needs a nap.

"If you'll take a nap, you can go lay with Mommy while she sleeps." Brittany tells him and Santana smiles into her pillow, even as sleep threatens to pull her back under.

She feels Liam get into bed with her and she just pulls him close to her as she falls back to sleep. She knows she'll have to wake up soon, but for as long as Liam is sleeping, she can remain in bed, content to dream. When she feels Liam stir again, Santana opens her eyes and just looks down at her perfect son, waking up from his nap. He's definitely less grumpy than he was when he was yelling earlier and even though it's late in the afternoon, she feels like she'll have plenty of time with him until bedtime.

"Mommy Noodle, you 'wake."

"I am awake, Sir. Did you have a good nap?"

"I cuddled with you!" He grins. "I misseded you so much."

"I missed you too, but we have all tonight and all tomorrow before I go back to work."

"Look who's up." Brittany opens the door, holding both Max and Oliver. "Hi Mommy."

"Hi, love. Hi, my sweet boys. Are you hungry?"

"I held off on feeding them, I thought you might be sore."

"Thank you." Santana smiles. "Come in bed with us, we'd snuggling."

Brittany climbs up on the bed, passing the twins to Santana, and she pulls up her scrub shirt to start nursing them. Liam has his head against her shoulder and Brittany holds her hand and it's just the nicest thing to be cuddled up with her whole family. Once she's done nursing, Santana figures she should get up and brush her teeth and wash her face—though she doesn't change out of her scrubs—and when she's done, she takes Oliver from Brittany and they all go downstairs.

"I want hot dogs for dinner!" Liam declares and both Santana and Brittany laugh. He always wants hot dogs for dinner but they can't comply ievery/i night.

"No hot dogs tonight." Brittany tells him. "We're going to have pork chops."

"But that's yucky!"

"Li, we talked about this, you have to try things."

"But I like hot dogs!"

"Liam." Brittany puts her foot down. "No hot dogs."

Liam and Brittany argue a little while Santana takes the twins to do their tummy time. Oliver is getting a little better at it, crying a little less, and Santana appreciates that. She knows that he needs to build up his muscle tone and though she longs to scoop him up when he cries, she makes him stay on his stomach beside Max. She and Brittany have talked about it, and they know that the worst thing for him is to have his every whim catered to. Brittany had confessed to Santana that she's wanted so badly to do it with Liam when he was small and healing but she'd done research that advised her against it. They're sticking with that with the twins and even though it hurts Santana's heart, it's for the best.

"He's doing better today." Brittany lays down on her stomach beside Santana after Liam stalks off to the playroom, still mad about the hot dogs.

"Yeah, it's just a little crying. I can handle that. I'm sorry I slept so late today, I really meant to get up but I was so wound up when I got in from work this morning that I had to take a pill."

"Honey, you worked an overnight, you don't have to apologize to me for sleeping."

"I know, but it's Saturday."

"And we have Sunday. I'm just happy you're back at work."

"So am I. I know legal kind of sucks, but it's settled, I don't have to worry about my malpractice."

"Good." Brittany kisses her cheek. "I knew it would be okay."

"I just didn't know what to expect. It's been such a tough few months, I kept imagining worst case scenario where I had to leave and lose the thing that keeps me sane. Or, one of the things that keeps me sane."

"It's okay that surgery is what keeps you sane. I think it does for me too. Cutting and fixing and being a hero make everything else fall into place."

"I will tell you this though." Santana cocks her head to the side. "Surgery used to be the only thing that made me happy. That's not true anymore."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that."


	81. Chapter 81

Glad to be on days for the foreseeable future, Santana gets back into the swing of work. Sometimes, while she's there, she can't help but peep outside of Shelby's office, hoping she'll get a peek at who she's interviewing. She's really hoping for someone good, someone she can trust fully to share cases with and although she knows that Shelby is going to hire the best person she can, Santana can't help but feel anxious. But home life keeps her sane. She's really gotten the balance thing down and while she's home, she doesn't think of surgeries all the time—though if she's being honest, when she's at work, she thinks of Brittany and the boys all of the time.

"Hey." Brittany comes into her own office, where Santana has camped out to pump. "I haven't seen you all day."

"I know, it's hectic on my floor. It seems like every kid who's ever needed surgery needs it today."

"Are you okay? Are you stressed?"

"I'm not, I learned after the Cecile Frank thing just to let it roll. I have a surgery in twenty minutes but my boobs were killing me and I just couldn't deal with doing a four hour procedure without pumping first."

"Yeah, that's probably not a good idea. Is it okay if I sit with you for a few minutes?"

"Britt, you don't have to ask. I'm your wife and also…this is kind of your office."

"True." Brittany laughs. "So, my mom wants to know if we can come to Boston this weekend. You can totally say no, I know you've been working late every night and—"

"We haven't been to Boston since before I went on bedrest. The twins have never been there. I'm okay with going."

"I'll drive, you can totally sleep in the car."

"Baby, stop trying to sell me on it, I'm sold." Santana smiles. "We can leave Friday after work."

"That's what I was thinking, then the boys will sleep for most of the ride and it won't be a total nightmare."

"You sound like _you_ don't want to go."

"No, I do. It's just that my parents want to talk to us about something and that stresses me out, you know?"

"Oh." Santana nods. "Yeah, but it's probably not a big deal."

"I hope not. It just seems like if they can't do it over the phone…"

"Don't worry." She leans over to kiss Brittany. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

Santana can't help but notice that Brittany is immensely stressed out over the next few days. She knows that it has to do with going to Boston, so Santana tries to give her as much space and patience as she possibly can. Brittany has always done that with her throughout their time dating and especially since they've been married, so it's about time, Santana thinks, that she return the favor. Each and every night though, when Brittany comes in to bed, she squeezes Santana tightly and Santana hugs her back as hard as she can.  
Friday finally comes and Santana has four surgeries. She gets out of her last one later than she would have liked and she texts Brittany to ask if she wants to go home and pick up the boys and then come back and get her to save time. Brittany is quick to agree and Santana does her last set of rounds before she goes back into her office to change into yoga pants and a Columbia Pres sweatshirt for the car ride. When she exits the hospital, Brittany is double parked and Santana quickly jumps in the car, not wanting her to get a ticket and be more stressed out.

"Mommy Noodle, why did you take so long?" Liam asks.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I had a patient who needed some extra help. But I'm here now and we're ready to be on our way."

"I stopped to get sandwiches." Brittany gestures to the bag at Santana's feet. "Your mom fed Liam his dinner so we don't have to do that."

"Saved us from having to drive through M-C-D-O-N-A-L-D-S."  
"Exactly. Did you get a chance to pump?"

"No, but it's fine, I'll do it in the car. Max and Oliver ate too?"

"Your mom said right before I came home, so they should make it to Boston. I think all three of them will be asleep once we get on 95."

Nodding, Santana opens the bag of sandwiches and hands Brittany half of hers before she opens her own. Brittany is quiet as they eat and much as she suspected, by the time they make it over the bridge, Liam has passed out, Max is on the verge and Oliver just stares out the window, looking like he's just about to follow. With their dinner gone, Santana reaches over and takes Brittany's hand on the center console, just squeezing it.

"If something is wrong with one of them, I'll feel so guilty about living in New York." Brittany confesses quietly. "It would be different if Liv was still alive…"

"If we need to go to Boston, we'll go to Boston. I'm sure Brigham would hire you back and I can get a job."

"The thing is though, Santana, I don't _want_ to move back to Boston. I love our life in New York, I love Columbia Pres, we're both on really good career tracks there. And that just makes me feel guiltier."

"It's okay that you moved away."

"Sometimes I feel like it's not." Brittany sighs. "They lost Olivia and then I took their grandson and moved five hours away."

"You did what you had to do. The job at Columbia was a huge step up for you. They understand that."

"I know they do, I really do. I'm just concerned how they'll be able to manage if something is wrong with one of them."

"We know some of the best doctors in the country, you'd be able to do your part that way and you'd make the trip up as often as possible."

"I can't honestly expect you to want to go back and forth to Boston all the time."

"I love your parents. And more importantly, I love _you_. Two minutes ago, I told you I'd move there. I can manage going back and forth with you. But for the record, I still think you have nothing to worry about."

"I hope you're right, Santana. I really do."

For the rest of the drive, they talk about less intense things. Work, the kids, where they're going to go when they both take a week off over the summer. Santana thinks that it calms Brittany down a little and by the time they pull into her parents' driveway a little after eleven, she seems to be doing okay. The Pierces are already asleep when they get there, so they slowly bring everything upstairs before Santana picks up a sleeping Liam and Brittany gets the two car seats. Brittany's dad had set up the playpen next to their bed before they got there so Brittany puts the twins in and Santana carefully lays Liam down in the center of their bed. Not wanting to wake any of the kids up, they wash up and change for bed in silence but once they're laying down, Santana grabs Brittany's hand over Liam's sleeping form and just squeezes it tightly.

It's early the next morning when Liam starts rolling around in bed and once Santana manages to rouse herself from sleep, still tired from the three times she woke up with one of the twins, Brittany is up and trying to keep Liam quiet. Santana can smell coffee from downstairs and she knows that Brittany's parents are already awake, so she tries to keep herself from falling back to sleep. Liam bounces over to her side of the bed and crawls into her arms, wrapping them around her neck. With a smile, Santana hugs him back and she's glad when Brittany leans over to kiss her.

"You don't have to be awake, honey." Brittany tells her softly.

"Mama, Mommy Noodle's already 'wake. I want to see her."

"I'm good, Britt." She promises, then lowers her voice once she grabs Liam's trains from the nightstand and he starts rolling them over the comforter. "My left nipple is just a little sore this morning."

"It's been bothering you all week. Do you think you have an infection?"

"I don't know, maybe the start of one. Would you mind grabbing me my cream from the red bag?"

Brittany complies immediately and Santana pops open the top of the totally organic and everything free nipple cream that she's been using, scooping some onto her fingers and putting her hand up under her shirt. She hisses out a little in pain as she rubs it on herself and Brittany looks over at her in concern. Santana just sighs and puts the cap back on her cream, knowing that this was probably caused by the days where she had long surgeries and let herself overfill. She'll probably need to see Roz and get antibiotics when they get back to New York, but until then, she'll try to manage it as best as she can on her own.

"Do you want me to bring you up coffee?" Brittany asks.

"It's okay, I'll brush my teeth and come down. I know you're anxious to talk to your parents."

"Mama, I'm so hungry." Liam whines a little.

"Okay, let's all brush teeth and then we'll go down to have breakfast."

While they're brushing their teeth, Oliver wakes up and before that can get to him, he has Max awake too. Because Santana's nipple is so sore, she wants to do the first feeding in the privacy of the bedroom so as not to concern Brittany's parents. She puts Max on her left side, because his sucking reflex is stronger, and Brittany takes Liam downstairs to get him food while Santana nurses. When both boys are finally done, she brings them downstairs and Liam has already finished his breakfast and has found his way into the living room and into the new toys the Pierces have bought him. Brittany brings Santana over a hot cup of coffee and then takes Max from her arms and sits down beside her.  
"Mom, Dad, tell us what's going on." Brittany immediately says, once Santana is done telling them how she is.

"Cutting right to the chase, aren't you?" Pierce laughs. "Okay, Whitney, you lost Rock Paper Scissors, you get to do it."

"You seriously played Rock Paper Scissors to decide who gets to tell us the bad news?" Brittany sighs.

"Honey, it's not bad news, but some of it might upset you a little." Whitney purses her lips. "We're selling the house."

"Okay…" Brittany takes a deep breath and Santana knows she's never one to be reactionary, even though it probably devastates her to know that her parents won't be living in the house where she and her sister grew up any longer. "Why?"

"We just thought we ought to move closer to you. Maribel is helping so much and we're kind of just…here."

"Besides," Pierce interjects. "The pizza is better in New York."

"Mom, Dad, your whole lives are here. We don't expect you to give that up." Brittany looks over at Santana, who takes her hand. "And…Liv. There are just…a lot of memories here."

"We know that." Whitney nods. "And we'll take all of her things with us. But to be honest with you, Brittany, sometimes it's difficult to live in a house surrounded by so many memories of her. It's been four years and you've done so much to make a new life for yourself, I think it's time we do that too."

"Okay…okay."

"Honey, we figured this might be difficult for you."

"I just need a minute." Brittany gets up from the table, puts Max down in his seat and walks to the front door, opening it and stepping outside, leaving Santana alone with the Pierces.

"I'm sorry about that, Santana." Whitney offers, looking down into her coffee.

"It's okay. I don't know if I should go to her or give her space. I've never seen her like this."

"It's why we wanted to tell her in person. She never really had a chance to grieve Olivia's death because she jumped right into taking care of Liam."

"I'm going to go out there, I think maybe it's best if she has some time alone with me. Do you mind watching the boys?"

"Go." Pierce nods, taking Oliver from Santana. "We got this."

Santana walks out the front door and finds Brittany on the steps with her head in her hands. She sits down beside her and rests her palm on Brittany's back, just silently letting her know that she's there. Brittany doesn't say anything but Santana can tell that she's crying and she longs to make it better for her. She's always so strong, her Brittany, so seeing her break is so difficult for Santana to do.

"This is the last place that still exists where she was." Brittany murmurs. "All the Thanksgivings, the Christmases, the Sundays where I'd get here late after work and they'd all be around the table…it's all I have left. I miss her every day, Santana, and I just have to go on living."

"I can't imagine how you feel."

"She was my best friend. I mean, we weren't sisters that fought all the time, we were so close from the time we were young. I thought she'd get to be the maid of honor at my wedding, see the birth of my kids. God, watch Liam grow up. There's just so much she never got to have and I get it that it's hard for my parents but they're going to sell this place. I'd love to have them in New York, but I'm not ready to let this go."

"You could talk to me about her, Britt, whenever you want. I know you don't, very often."

"When I talk about her, I feel like I'm going to fall apart. I had to compartmentalize all of my sadness when she died because Liam needed me and my parents needed me, so now, I feel sometimes like grief is going to swallow me whole."

"I didn't know that, I'm sorry I haven't given you a safe place to come."

"It's not you, I know I can talk to you, and eventually, I'm going to have to tell more stories about her to Liam and even Max and Oliver but I don't know how."

"What if…we helped your parents go through everything? Maybe that physical act will help you be able to talk."

"Or it might make me more mad that they're selling the house." Brittany sniffles. "I'm so glad that neither one of them are sick, but this is a tough blow."

"I know." Santana wraps her arm around Brittany and pulls her close. "You lost the most important person to you and then you stepped up to be the mother of her son. Now you're losing a place that you shared with her."

"They're moving to New York to be closer to us, I should be thrilled."

"You're allowed to have mixed emotions. You're always an emotional rock for me, but I'm here for whatever you need."

"Thank you." Brittany nods and rests her head on Santana's shoulder. "I need to know that."

Once Brittany cools off a little, they go back inside to find Brittany's parents in the living room with all three of the boys. Liam is building a train track and Max and Oliver are laying side by side on their backs on the floor. Santana knows that Whitney knows Oliver doesn't like tummy time, so she's glad she didn't put him on his stomach when she wasn't there to comfort him. Brittany sits down on the couch and Santana joins Liam on the floor, helping him to attach his tracks.

"I'd like to help go through Liv's stuff." Brittany tells them. "If it's okay, there are some things I'd like to take for Liam."

"Of course, honey. And I promise you, we're not going to get rid of any of it. It means a lot for us to have it." Whitney sighs.

"We just lost so much of her stuff in the fire, all of what's left of her is here."

"Where's a fire?" Liam asks, lifting one of his fire trucks. "I'll do it!"

"Oh, Li." Brittany gets up and lifts him into her arms. "There was a fire a long time ago."

"I hope the firemans put it out!"

For the rest of the day, Brittany is quiet. Santana doesn't try to urge her to talk, she figures she'll do it on her own accord and if she's still upset with her parents, that's okay. They end up going out to dinner, but Brittany spends most of her time outside of the restaurant with a crying Oliver—and existing that Santana stay and eat her dinner. When they get back to the Pierces, Liam is falling asleep and Max and Oliver aren't far behind so they say goodnight to Brittany's parents and quickly bathe all three boys, Santana feeds the twins and they get them into bed, putting Liam on the little cot that Pierce has remembered to bring up, instead of putting him in the middle of the big bed.

Santana changes into her pajamas, takes her pills and brushes her teeth and Brittany follows suit, clearly not wanting to go back downstairs to her parents. Feeling bad that it's been a rough day for Brittany, Santana goes to massage her shoulders as soon as they get into bed. Brittany leans back into her touch and Santana can't believe how much tension she's holding there.

"I was thinking about Liam." Brittany whispers, clearly not wanting to wake the sleeping kids. "And how he heard us talking about the fire."

"And when you, or we, if that's what you want, have to tell him?"

"Yeah. I can't keep this from him forever. As soon as he's old enough to realize that his scars came from somewhere, he'll have to know. And I don't want him to think of my sister as anything but his mother…but how do you tell a kid that their parents died?"

"Babe, I don't know. Maybe there's someone we can talk to, just to figure out the best way to go about this. I mean, you always point out your sister as Mommy to him, I guess it just hasn't sunk in."

"It's only a matter of time before it does. I just won't lie to him, but I also don't want it to scare him, thinking that something might happen to one of us."

"I know." Santana digs her thumbs into a knot in Brittany's back. "I really, really know."

"Do you know any child psychologists that work with patients on your floor? Maybe you could ask one of them what the right thing to do is."

"I could definitely do that. Britt, no matter what, I'm here for you through this. I know you adopted him before me and Olivia was your sister, but I promise you don't have to do this alone."

"Thank you for that." Brittany sighs. "It's just been a really long and emotionally draining day."

"Let's just go to bed, you could really use the rest."

"You're right. We have to drive back tomorrow and I need to not be a jerk to my parents. Come here."

Santana stops massaging Brittany's shoulders and curls up in her arms. Even on the rare occasion where Brittany is going though something, she still prefers to be the big spoon and Santana is perfectly okay with that. She feels Brittany's lips on the top of her head, feels the way she squeezes just a little tighter and she closes her eyes, already feeling the effects of her Ambien. Now that the twins are mostly sleeping through the night, she can take it regularly again, meaning she actually wakes up well rested.

The bed is empty when Santana gets up in the morning, but Liam is still asleep on his cot and Max and Oliver are in the playpen. Santana notices that Brittany's sneakers aren't at the foot of the bed and even though it's before seven in the morning, she assumes that Brittany went for a run to clear her head. Max wakes up first and Santana lifts him from the playpen, careful not to disturb Oliver, and lifts up her t-shirt. She sits with him in her arms, humming softly as he nurses, and she's surprised by a knock on the door.

"Come in." She calls out softly, not wanting to wake Oliver or Liam. When the door opens, it's Whitney and Santana gives her a small smile.

"I expected to see Brittany in here, I woke up early hoping we could talk."  
"I think Britt must have gone for a run. Her sneakers aren't in here and it's too early for her to have gone anywhere else."

"Santana, do you think we're doing the wrong thing?" Whitney asks, eyes pleading.

"I…think it's really amazing that you want to move to New York. I love the idea that Max and Oliver will get to have you regularly like Liam did when he was their age, and you'll get to watch all three boys grow up in a way you couldn't all the way from Boston. I do really think that Brittany will be okay, it's just, like you said, the process of grief that she never really got to experience."

"If we could afford to keep this house and buy something in New York, we would. It's hard for me to give up the place we raised our girls. But I think it will be a good, fresh start. I'm sorry, I don't mean to put you in the middle of this."

"You're not." Santana shakes her head. "I want what's best for all of you, I really do. And we'll come up and help you pack, that way Brittany can go through what she wants to."

"I've begun to go through her things, things Pierce and I will keep, things we want Brittany to have, things we want to save for Liam when he's older. I meant it when I said we wouldn't get rid of anything of Olivia's, I haven't been able to in the time she's been gone and I won't now."

"I think that's important for Brittany. She'll be okay, Whitney, I know she will."

"Thanks for being a good wife to her, the monster would have expected me to throw everything out and Liam with it."

"I know, I'm really glad Brittany didn't marry her ex. Anyone who wouldn't want her to have Liam and those memories of Liv doesn't deserve to have her."

"Mom, what's going on?" Brittany walks into the room, sliding her shoes off.

"Mama, shh, I'm sleepin'." Liam rolls over with a frown.

"I'm sorry, bud. I'll go downstairs with Mommy and Grandma."

Santana checks on Oliver to make sure that he's still sleeping and grabs the monitor before she follows Whitney and Brittany out of the room while carrying Max. They go down to the kitchen and Brittany pours hot mugs of coffee for the two of them. Whitney sits down at the table across from Brittany and Santana catches her wipe a tear from her eye.

"I just went up to ask Santana if she thought we were making the wrong decision. She knows you better than anyone and—"

"You're not, Mom. I can't expect you to stay here forever just because we lost Liv. I'm sorry about yesterday, I just needed time to process. I'm still…dealing with losing her."

"I know, kid. We had more time to process, you stepped right up and took on Liam."

"I had to be okay for him. But I know it was hard for you when we moved to New York and I'd be so happy to have you closer. I miss you and Dad every day."

"We miss you too, Brittany. I know that you have your life with your wife and your family, but…I just want to be closer to you, Santana and the boys. We won't move into the city, but Maribel has raved about her town in Westchester, and there's always Long Island."

"I'm happy you're coming." Brittany smiles and Santana thinks that she's not even forcing it.

"We'll always keep Liv with us, you know that, right?"

"I know. And I get it, that I'm in a totally different place, both physically and emotionally than when she died and if you think moving will help you get there too, then I'm all for it."

The sound of Oliver crying over the monitor tears Santana away from the table and she hands Max to Brittany before she goes upstairs. When she gets in the room, she lifts him up from the playpen and sits on the bed to nurse. She thinks of how he's Olivia's namesake, how she never got to meet Brittany's sister, but she's so present in their lives. She's not quite sure what she believes in, in terms of religion, but somehow, she feels that Brittany's sister has especially watched over her fragile son. She leans down and gently kisses the top of Oliver's head and he gurgles up at her, smiling as he nurses.

"Mommy Noodle?" Liam lifts his head from the cot. "Can I sleep in my own bed tonight?"

"You can, Sir. We're going to leave to go home just after breakfast. How does that sound?"

"I'm gonna miss Gramma and Grampa, but I like goin' home and I miss Gramma Maribel."

"She'll be happy to hear that when you see her tomorrow. Do you want to come sit with me while Ollie eats, or do you want to go downstairs to Mama?"

"I will stay here with you. I like to see them babies eat."

Liam curls up with Santana as Oliver finishes eating and then she gets both of them dressed before dressing herself. She figures the easier she can make getting out of the Pierces, the better it will be for Brittany and before she goes downstairs, she leaves an outfit on the bed for Max and puts the rest of her things in the suitcase. She brings the boys downstairs and things look good with Brittany and her mom. Brittany takes Max back upstairs to dress them both and by the time they're done, Pierce is awake and they can start packing the car and saying their goodbyes. Once they get on the road, Santana passes Liam back the iPad and Max and Oliver are content in their seats. Santana grabs Brittany's hand on the center console and Brittany turns her head a little to smile at her.

"Thanks for putting up with me being a little out of sorts this weekend." Brittany says softly.

"Britt, you put up with me being out of sorts for long stretches at a time. You were fine, just a little upset."

"It'll be good having them in New York, won't it?"

"I think it really will. Not just for them, but for you too. You uprooted your whole life to come to New York."

"It was really a job offer too good to pass up. And I spent my my whole life in Boston, it was an adventure."

"Me aside, do you ever regret it?" Santana purses her lips.

"Honestly? I don't. Like I told you on Friday, and I love the hospital, I love our house, I love our kids, and being with you is not something I can separate from any of that. If I loved nothing else about New York, I still would have come just to meet you."

"I'm glad you did, I can't imagine my life without you and our kids."

"Neither can I."


End file.
